The Onset of Autumn
by Eribeth Whitlock
Summary: Voldemort is dead. Most of the surviving Death Eaters have been captured. Life is slowly going back to normal - and Harry, Ron and Hermione have new careers ahead of them, but someone's watching. Someone who isn't quite ready to admit defeat.
1. Chapter 1

**Hermione**

Ron and I watch in silence until Harry's out of sight. After a moment, Ron reaches over and takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine.

"Come on," he says, and I follow without asking where.

Our footsteps slow as we get closer to the Great Hall. "Stop for a minute," I say. "I don't want to go back in there yet, do you?"

"No," Ron admits, looking relieved. "Couldn't we be alone for a bit?"

I look around dubiously. Every room on this floor has been completely torn apart. "Where?" I ask.

"What's wrong with right here?" Ron says, indicating a nearby window ledge. "Oh, hang on - there's broken glass…"

_"Reparo!"_ I say, flicking my wand at the window.

"Nice one," Ron says, pulling me up on the ledge with him. "That's one fixed and about seven hundred left to go."

I don't even want to think about how much work is going to be involved in repairing Hogwarts. I lean my head on Ron's shoulder and feel his arms wrap tightly around me. "I could fall asleep right here," I say wearily.

"I could sleep for about twelve hours straight," Ron says. "Wish we still had the tent."

"We _have_ still got it," I say, sitting up. I roll up the leg of my jeans to show him the beaded bag, still tucked securely into my sock.

"You're amazing, Hermione," Ron says, but I don't see why. It's where I always hide the beaded bag if I think there's going to be trouble. Anyway, now we've got somewhere to sleep tonight - or today, really. It's morning.

I settle back down against Ron, just for a minute. I'm so tired I almost feel dizzy.

"Hermione?" Ron says. "You meant it before, didn't you? It wasn't just - just the heat of the moment or something, was it?"

Honestly. "Of course I meant it!" I say indignantly, sitting up to face him. "Didn't you?"

"Well, yeah," Ron says, sounding relieved. "I've been wanting to kiss you for ages, only…" He looks doubtful again. "How could you go on liking me after I acted like such a complete prat?"

"I wasn't much better," I say, but he shakes his head.

I roll my eyes at him. "What can I say to convince you?" I ask, half-smiling.

Ron grins at me. "You might throw yourself at me again," he says teasingly. "_That_ was pretty convincing."

I put both arms around his neck and lift my face up to his.

**Ron**

Kissing Hermione makes me forget about all of it for a while. I don't think about You-Know-Who, or the battle - or Fred. I can't think about Fred yet or I'll lose it completely.

I'm not sure how long it's been when I hear a familiar voice from just behind me. "Sorry to interrupt," it says. "But have either of you seen Harry?"

Ginny, of course. Getting me back for walking in when she was snogging Harry in her bedroom last summer. I'm about to tell her to get lost when I get a good look at her face. Her eyes are still pink and swollen from crying.

"He's gone to rest, I think," Hermione says apologetically. "He said he wanted to be on his own for a bit."

"He's probably gone to our old dormitory," I say to Ginny. "He did say he wanted to be alone - but I reckon you're the one person he wouldn't mind seeing. Especially if that plate of food you're carrying is for him."

I don't know who's more surprised to hear me say this - me or Ginny. "Thanks, Ron," she says, looking stunned. "Look, do me a favor and tell Mum I've gone to bed, all right? I don't want to go back in there."

"Of course we will," Hermione says, before I can say no. She opens the beaded bag and pulls out Harry's rucksack. "Take this along with you," she says, handing it to Ginny. "I expect he'd like some clean clothes."

Ginny starts off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. "About time you two got it together," she says, over her shoulder. "I was beginning to think I was going to have to feed you both a Love Potion."

Hermione shakes her head, but she looks amused. "Come on," I say, pulling her to her feet. "Let's get it over with."

There are still a lot of people in the Great Hall, and I can't see my family anywhere at first.

"Are you hungry?" Hermione asks, nodding toward the platters of food spread out over the house tables.

I'm not, for once - I think I'm too tired to eat - but that could change, couldn't it? "Let's take some stuff with us," I say.

Hermione piles food onto a plate, covering it with a napkin; then does some sort of complicated charm so it won't fall off inside the beaded bag. "Take this, too," I say, shoving a bottle of wine in after it. I reckon we could do with a drink after all this.

"There they are," Hermione says, pointing to the back of the Hall.

That's where all the bodies are, isn't it? I don't want to go over there. I don't want to see them again… Remus and Tonks, and that poor little git Creevey….and Fred. My brother Fred.

Hermione slips her arm around my waist. "Come on," she says gently.

I let her lead me across the Hall. I'm trying not to look, but I can't help it. I don't know who half of these people are, but I recognize more of them than I want to.

They've got Fred laid out on the last table. George is standing next to him, looking down. Mum, Dad, Charlie and Percy are all gathered nearby.

Hermione's pulling me toward George. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, hugging him. I hug him, too, but it's like hugging a statue. It's like he doesn't even know we're there. Poor old George, with his one ear. What's he going to do without Fred?

Mum sees us and comes rushing up. "There you are," she says. "Where's Ginny got to, do you know? And Harry?"

I try to answer her, but I can't. It feels like my throat's closed up, all of a sudden.

"Ginny's gone to lie down in her dormitory," Hermione says. "And Harry said he wanted to get some sleep, too."

"I wanted them to come back home with us," Mum says anxiously. "I think we should all go home."

"We're both too tired to Apparate," Hermione says. "You go along, Mrs. Weasley, and we'll be there tomorrow."

"But where will you sleep?" Mum asks.

"There are plenty of empty beds in the dormitories," Hermione says, carefully leaving out the fact that we're not going to be sleeping in any of them.

Mum's half-distracted or she'd never let that one go, but she just nods and looks at the rest of them.

"I'm not leaving Fred," George says, without looking up.

"Oh, George, dear," Mum starts. "Arthur, don't you think - "

"I'll stay with him, Mum," Percy says.

For some reason, that's the thing that finally gets to me. I feel the tightness in my throat expand, like I'm going to choke on it.

Hermione looks sideways at me. "We'll see you tomorrow, then," she says quickly, squeezing my hand.

Mum and Dad hug both of us. I hear Hermione whispering condolences to both of them, but I still can't manage to say a word.

I follow her blindly out of the Hall and into the grounds. "Over here by the lake, I think," Hermione says briskly, opening the beaded bag. "Here, you do the tent while I put the charms on."

We don't really need the charms anymore, but I don't argue. I don't want to be disturbed, and I guess she doesn't either.

Setting up the tent takes my mind of things, and after a minute I feel like I can breathe again. If I don't think about it; if I just concentrate on what I'm doing…

"It's a lot smaller than the old one, isn't it?" I say, pulling the flap back. "But at least it doesn't smell like cats."

It's smaller on the inside, too - and there's only one bed. I see Hermione look sideways at it, but she doesn't say anything.

"You can shower first," I say, even though Harry and I usually make her go last because she uses all the hot water. I know there's a charm that heats it up again, but I always end up scalding myself.

"I'll be quick," Hermione says, even though she never is. She pulls some things out of the beaded bag and goes. After a minute I can hear the water running. I look around for something to do so I won't fall asleep. Tea; I could make tea.

The tea's ready and I've got the food put away by the time Hermione comes out. She's in her pajamas, with her wet hair spread over a towel around her shoulders. She always looks so much smaller when her hair's wet. She gives me a shaky smile. I want to put my arms around her, but she's all clean and I'm still filthy.

"I made you a cup of tea," I say instead. "I'll be right out."

"I laid your pajamas out for you," Hermione calls after me. "And I fixed the water so there's still plenty of hot."

She's sitting on the edge of the bed when I come out, dabbing dittany on a cut on her knee.

"I'll do that," I say, taking the bottle from her. "Where else are you hurt?"

"Just a couple of burns on my arm from the fire," Hermione says, holding it out to me.

I put dittany on the burns and plant a kiss on her arm. "Are you sure you don't need any more?"

"Any more what?" Hermione asks, smiling at me. "Dittany or kissing?"

I don't believe it. She's actually flirting with me. I never even thought she knew how. Course, there hasn't exactly been a lot of opportunity for flirting this past year…

"Both," I say, taking her in my arms. "But let's start with kissing."

The kiss that follows takes both of us by surprise. "Maybe - maybe we'd better go to sleep now," Hermione says finally, sounding almost breathless. She takes the bottle of dittany from me. "Do you need any of this before I put it away?"

Only about a gallon. I lean back and close my eyes while she puts dittany on my various cuts and burns.

"Have I got everything?" Hermione asks me. Her voice sounds like it's coming from a long way off. I try to answer, but I can't seem to make my mouth move.

"At least get under the covers," Hermione says, sounding amused. I rouse myself enough to pull them over me - it feels weird; I haven't slept between proper sheets in months - and Hermione climbs in beside me. I can't help thinking that I'm really wasting this opportunity - I mean, when are we going to be alone in a tent like this again? - but I haven't got the energy to do anything but pull her close to me and shut my eyes.

I fall asleep so fast, it almost feels like I'm falling off a cliff.

**Harry**

By the time I make it up to Gryffindor Tower, I haven't got it in me to climb the stairs to the dormitories. I drop down on one of the sofas in the Common Room and close my eyes, just for a few minutes.

I'm not sure how much time has passed when I'm suddenly aware that someone's sitting next to me. I'm not at all surprised when I open my eyes to find Ginny there.

"I'll leave you alone if that's what you want," she says. "But I thought you might like something to eat." She sets a plate of sandwiches and a bottle of what looks like pumpkin juice on the table in front of us.

"You don't have to leave," I say, realizing as I say it that I want her to stay here. "I don't want to be around a lot of people right now, but that doesn't include you."

Ginny smiles at me. "That's what Ron said," she remarks, handing me a sandwich. "I forgot to bring glasses. We're going to both have to drink from the bottle."

_Ron_ said that? I decide not to ask. "You were great in that battle," I say instead.

"Don't say that in front of Mum," Ginny warns. "I wasn't even supposed to be there, remember?"

I remember, all right. But she wouldn't be Ginny if she'd hidden in the Room of Requirement the whole time - and I wouldn't have her any other way.

"What will you do?" Ginny asks, not looking at me. "Now that you don't have to go after You-Know-Who anymore, I mean."

"Dunno," I admit. "It's been my life for so many years that I can't seem to think what ought to come next. I might just borrow Bill's tent and go off on my own for a bit - you know, travel round."

Ginny bites her lip. "You'll come back to the Burrow with me tomorrow, though, won't you?" she asks. "I know you can't stay there forever, but - well, Fred's funeral…"

"Of course I will," I say, setting my sandwich aside and putting both arms around her. "I'll stay as long as you need me." I owe her that. I owe all of the Weasleys that much. I'd never have made it through the last seven years without them.

"I've missed you so much," Ginny whispers, and then I'm kissing her, and it's like this whole past year was nothing but a bad dream. I don't know what it is between us, but whatever it is, I never want it to stop.

I settle back on the sofa with her. It feels so right to be holding Ginny in my arms again. Only… "Ginny?" I say, a bit uneasily. "Do your parents know where you are right now?" I really don't want Mrs. Weasley bursting in on us just now.

Ginny doesn't answer. I look down and realize she's sound asleep on my shoulder. Seems like a good idea, doesn't it? I shift her carefully and stretch out next to her on the sofa. Somewhere in the back of my mind I'm thinking that I should probably take my shoes off, but it's just too much of an effort.

**The Watcher**

I fled as soon as the Dark Lord fell. There are some who would call me a coward for this, but I prefer to think of it as common sense. There was, after all, nothing to be gained by staying around. We were clearly outnumbered, and the other side - bolstered by Potter's unexpected return to life - was fighting with new strength.  
>I didn't go far - just out into the grounds. The fighting was going on there, too, but I was able to blend in with the trees. I've always been rather good at Disillusionment Charms. I heard them say Bellatrix Lestrange was dead - and a short time later, I heard them say it was over.<p>

Many of us - the Dark Side; the Death Eaters - were dead, and those who were merely injured were immediately taken prisoner. Some, I think, were able to escape. And some, like that old traitor Lucius, claimed to have been Imperiused. He played that card last time and got away with it. Will they believe him again? I rather doubt it - but then again, Malfoy has deep pockets.

The sun's up now, and the old castle is at last quiet. They'll be going home, most of them - home to bury their dead; to pick up their lives. And I? I will wait here where I am, till it's safe to come out. I know where to go; where to find the others who, like me, have managed to escape. And we will wait. After all, they said the Dark Lord was dead once before.

And if it's true - if he's truly finished this time - there will be another to take his place.

**Hermione**

"You were in my vault, weren't you?" Bellatrix demands, pointing her wand at me. "Answer me, Mudblood!"

Greyback looks at me avidly, his yellow eyes gleaming in the dark room. "I could make her talk," he whispers.

"No," I protest, but it's too late. She's raised her wand.

"No!" I cry. "Please, no!" But Greyback's holding me still. I can feel his hot breath on my neck. I struggle to get away…

"Hermione," Ron says in my ear. "Hermione, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

A nightmare? Suddenly I'm conscious again. "You're the one holding me," I realize. "I thought it was Greyback."

"Thanks a lot," Ron says, and I laugh a little.

"I'd hoped I wasn't going to have it any more," I say, almost to myself. "Now that everything's over…"

"Any _more_?" Ron asks. "You mean, you've been having nightmares a lot?"

"Every night since - well, since Bellatrix," I admit, burying my face in his shoulder. "It's always the same - I relive the whole experience at Malfoy Manor."

"You should've told me," Ron says sternly, but I don't see what good it would have done.

"It wasn't so bad tonight," I say. "At least you woke me up before it really got going."

"Yeah, I did," Ron says, sounding pleased with himself. "You should probably sleep with me every night from now on - at least till you get over this."

Somehow I can't see Mrs. Weasley going along with that - and I suppose we're going to have to go back to the Burrow tomorrow. We can't go on living in the tent forever.

I'm afraid to go back to sleep now. I know Bellatrix is dead, but she seemed so real. I shiver a little, and feel Ron's arms tighten around me.

"It's all right, Hermione," he says. "I've got you safe."

It's the same thing he said to me that night.

_The last thing I remembered was Bellatrix raising her wand - and then indescribable pain. The next thing I knew, it was dark, and someone was carrying me. I gasped aloud, struggling frantically._

_"It's all right, Hermione," Ron's voice said in my ear. "I've got you safe. We're at Bill and Fleur's place."_

_He carried me into the house and up the stairs. I could hear Bill and Fleur asking questions. "Check outside," Ron said to them. "There are some other people with us - and Harry. Tell me when Harry gets here."_

_He set me down gently on a bed. "Harry?" I whispered, frightened._

_"He'll be all right," Ron said. "Dobby's with him."_

_Dobby? "Tell me quick, before they come back," I said, and he did._

_"You saved my life," I said, but he shook his head._

_"Dobby saved all of us," he said._

_Fleur came in then, and chased him out so she could help me undress. Luna wandered in and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at me with that sort of vague expression she always has. "Harry's here," she said after a minute. "I saw him through the window. Something's wrong with Dobby, though."_

_Oh dear. I struggled to sit up. "'Ermione, you must lie down," Fleur said sternly._

_"Fleur?" Ron said through the door. "Is Hermione okay? Can I come back in?"_

_Fleur looked exasperated and went to the door. "He's awfully in love with you, isn't he?" Luna said matter-of-factly. "I thought he'd lose his mind when Bellatrix was torturing you."_

_"Who, Ron?" I said, startled. "No, he isn't. He's just concerned because- because he's my friend, that's all."_

_Luna lowered her voice so that Fleur, arguing with Ron in the doorway, wouldn't hear. "We're all your friends, Hermione," she said. "But none of the rest of us were trying to tear through a brick wall with our bare hands to get to you."_

I remember it now and smile a little to myself in the darkness.

"What're you thinking about?" Ron asks.

"Something Luna said," I answer.

"I wouldn't do that," Ron says. "That'll give you another nightmare."

"She said you were in love with me," I tell him.

Ron's silent for a minute. "Every once in a while, even Luna has to say something sensible," he says finally.

I nestle against him. "Ron?" I whisper. "She would've been right if she said it about me, too."

He kisses me again. "Know something?" he says into my hair. "I'm starving."

I can't help laughing. "So am I," I admit. "What did you do with all that food we brought back with us?" 


	2. Chapter 2

_One Month Later_

**Harry**

I'm almost afraid to look as I push open the front door, but it looks almost normal again. The bloodstains are gone from the marble staircase, and the windows have all been repaired. When I look more closely I can still see that a lot remains to be done, but it's a relief to find that the absolute devastation I'd remembered is a thing of the past.

Someone pushes the door open behind me and nearly walks into me.

"Sorry about that, I didn't see - Harry!" Ron says, startled. "What're you doing here?"

"You're the one who sent me the owl," I say, grinning at him.

"Yeah, but that was just this morning," Ron says.

It seems like it was longer ago than just this morning. I'd been camping down in the south of England when Ron's owl found me. _"There's a whole group of us working to repair Hogwarts before the new term starts,"_ the letter had read. _"Almost everybody from the D.A.'s here - we're all staying in the dormitories. I know you wanted to get off on your own for a bit and all that, but I thought you'd like to know."_

Reading it, I'd suddenly been overwhelmed by a desire to see Hogwarts again. Ron was right - I want to be a part of this.

"I can Apparate, remember?" I say, picking up my rucksack and starting up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower.

"Passed your test yet?" Ron asks, falling into step beside me. "I've done mine - Hermione made me, before we went to Australia. It was pretty easy, though - it's not like we didn't have plenty of practice."

"Yeah, I'll have to get round to that," I say a bit guiltily, and Ron laughs.

"So you found Hermione's parents all right, then?" I say.

"Yeah," Ron says. "They were fine, once they got over the shock and all. Course, we had to give them a sort of toned-down version of everything that happened last year, but they still took it a bit hard."

"Are they back in England now?" I ask.

Ron shakes his head. "They're thinking they might stay on in Australia," he says. "Turns out they quite like it there. Hermione's still there with them, but she'll be here in a few days." He looks worried as he says this, but I don't know why. "Hang on - the password's restoration."

"Things going all right with you and Hermione?" I ask tentatively as we step through the portrait hole.

"So well I can't believe it," Ron says promptly, dropping onto a sofa in the Common Room. "I know I'm bound to do something to mess it up any day now, but so far we haven't even had a fight."

So that's not it…

"Come on," Ron says, heading for the stairs. "You can bunk in with me and Neville. All of the other rooms are full."

I pick up my rucksack and follow him.

"We're in this one," Ron says, throwing open a door. "Dean and Seamus have got our old room."

"Who else is here?" I ask, throwing my rucksack on a bed.

"Most of the teachers, and practically everybody from our year who wasn't in Slytherin," Ron says. "Plus there are lots of people who've been coming in at the weekends - Lee Jordan, Angelina, Katie, Alicia, Oliver Wood, Cho Chang - and my brothers, of course."

"George?" I ask, startled. The last I heard, George wasn't doing so well.

Ron shakes his head. "Bill's been here a lot, though - and Charlie came for the first week, but then he had to go back to Romania."

"What about Percy?" I ask.

"He's been here," Ron says unenthusiastically. "Luckily he decided that he really ought to be spending a bit more time with George - helping him run the shop and all - so we haven't seen much of him lately."

"Bit hard on George," I say, and Ron shrugs.

"George doesn't much care what happens right now," he says, dropping down on his bed.

I want to ask about Ginny, but somehow I don't quite dare. It's always been a bit awkward. I glance out the window, hoping for inspiration.

"Here comes Professor Sprout," I say, seeing her hurrying toward the school in her old, patched hat.

"Bloody hell, I was supposed to be bringing her a bottle of lacewings from Slughorn's office," Ron says, rolling off the bed again. "I forgot all about it when I saw you. Well, come on, Harry - I guess we'd better get back to work."

The work's easy enough - Professor Sprout doesn't trust me and Ron with the actual plants, so we're going around the greenhouses mending all the panes of broken glass. Neville waves at me from behind a huge Mandrake as we go by him.

He catches up to me as we're walking back to the castle late that afternoon. "It's good to see you, Harry," he says. "I was hoping you'd come."

"Thanks," I say. "It's good to see you, too."

"I got a letter from Luna yesterday," Neville says happily. "She's coming to help us this weekend."

I wonder if Ginny's written to Neville, too. Maybe I can get a chance to ask him - privately - later.

Ron stops me as I'm about to head toward the Great Hall. "We haven't started in there yet," he says. "It's sort of a big job, so we're saving it till the end."

That's an understatement, if I ever heard one. "Where do we eat, then?" I ask.

"The house-elves bring breakfast and lunch to the Common Rooms, but we're on our own for dinner," Neville explains. "They'll make you a sandwich if you go down to the kitchen, but mostly we just go to the Three Broomsticks." He starts toward the stairs. "I'd better wash up first," he says. "Well, I'll see you in Hogsmeade!"

"I dunno," I say to Ron uncertainly. "I haven't got much gold with me - I wasn't exactly looking forward to visiting Gringotts again."

"Neither am I," Ron admits, grinning at me. "But you won't need any money tonight. Rosmerta won't let us pay for anything - she says it's her contribution to fixing up Hogwarts. Otherwise I couldn't go either."

Everybody who's helping out at Hogwarts seems to be in the Three Broomsticks tonight. I spot Michael Corner, Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein over by the bar, and Ernie MacMillan at a corner table holding hands with Hannah Abbott. "That's new, isn't it?" I say, nodding at Ernie and Hannah.

"There's been a lot of hooking up," Ron says, grinning at me. "You know how it is."

Yeah, I know. We sit down at a table with Seamus, Dean and Neville. "The girls ought to be along soon," Seamus says. "So before they get here - anyone for a quick firewhisky?"

We're all up for it - except Neville. "I don't like the taste," he admits. "I'd better stick to butterbeer."

Seamus raises his glass. "Here's to having Harry back!" he says, and we all drink.

Everybody seems to be in high spirits. I do my best to join in, but I can't get past the depression that's been weighing me down. "What was it like in Australia?" I say to Ron, in an effort to take my mind off things.

"Different," Ron says, shrugging. "I only stayed a couple of days. It's hard living like a Muggle - I don't know how you and Hermione managed it all of these years. I kept forgetting and using magic on things, only it doesn't seem to work properly…"

Dean gives a shout of laughter. "Go on, what'd you break?" he asks.

Ron's ears turn red. "Only a couple of things," he says defensively. "And Hermione put them all right again - well, all except that little boxy oven thing with the plate that goes round…"

"The microwave?" Dean asks, exchanging an alarmed look with me. "You don't want to use magic on one of those, mate. They - "

"Blow up," Ron says. "Yeah, I found that out, thanks. The Grangers were nice about it and all, but I think they were relieved when I left."

Dean and I exchange another look - amused, this time. I remember how much stuff Mr. Weasley managed to destroy in one short visit to the Dursleys' house. I'll bet the Grangers _were_ relieved.

Ron's obviously remembering the same thing. "Harry," he says in a low voice. "Have you heard from the Dursleys at all?"

"Kingsley told me they were all right," I say. "They're back in their old house."

Hermione would've pursued it, but Ron doesn't. "Well, that's good," he says after an awkward moment.

Lavender and Parvati are coming over. "Nice to see you, Harry," Parvati says, smiling at me. Lavender gives me a quick hello before devoting her entire attention to Seamus.

"She's after him," Ron says in my ear. "Poor bloke doesn't stand a chance."

"He doesn't look as though he minds," I point out. Seamus, in fact, looks flattered but slightly stunned. Dean's already moved over next to Parvati and she's giggling at something he's saying.

There's definitely a party atmosphere. I keep telling myself that it's normal - after all, everyone's spent the entire last year being depressed and worried and frightened. It's only natural that they want to enjoy themselves now. But part of me can't help feeling a bit resentful. I only wish I could get over it as easily as the rest of them seem to have done.

I sneak a look at my watch and wonder how much longer I'll have to sit here before I can leave without attracting attention. It's going to be a long night.

**Ron**

Harry's obviously had something on his mind ever since he got here. He's been really quiet - not like his old self at all. I thought at first it was the shock of seeing Hogwarts like this. It takes everybody that way at first, even though we'd all obviously seen it after the battle and we knew what to expect. But it's been long enough for him to get over it - and really, the place doesn't look anywhere near as bad as it did when I got here three weeks ago.

I wait till we're by ourselves fixing broken desks in one of the classrooms. "Something on your mind, mate?" I say, trying to keep things casual. "You've been sort of quiet since you got here."

Harry shakes his head. "I'm okay," he says, pointing his wand at a desk with three cracked legs. _"Reparo!"_

I try to think what Hermione would do. Probably keep after him till he told her, but I don't feel right doing that. Anyway, she'll be here soon. I'll let her have a go at him.

"Okay," I say, moving on to another desk. I wonder if it's got something to do with Ginny? In that case, I'd definitely better not ask. I'm okay with the idea of them going out - more or less - but I draw the line at discussing it.

"It's just everyone's acting like this is some sort of big party or something," Harry bursts out. "I mean, yeah, Voldemort's dead - but so're a lot of other people. Remus, Tonks, Fred…"

I don't want to talk about Fred. "We _know_ people are dead," I say. "Nobody's forgotten that. It's just that - well, last year was bloody awful, Harry! People want to have a bit of fun now, that's all."

Harry sits down on the desk he's just repaired and looks at me. "I know," he says miserably. "It's me, I guess. I just…" He shrugs and looks at the floor.

I put my wand down too. "It was a lot harder on you than anyone, I reckon," I say. I really wish Hermione was here. She's much better at this sort of thing than I am.

"It's been hard on everyone," Harry says quietly. "You're right - people need to have a bit of fun now."

"Tell you what," I say. "Let's have a game of Quidditch this afternoon. We've got enough people here to make up two teams."

"No brooms," Harry reminds me.

"So we'll use the school ones," I say. "I know they're useless, but if everyone's flying a crap broom, we're all even."

Harry looks out the window. You can just see the Quidditch field from here. "Do you think it'd be all right to take an afternoon off?" he asks.

"Why not?" I say. "We've done quite a lot, really - and lots of people are coming to help this weekend."

Harry grins at me. "Hermione's supposed to get here day after tomorrow, isn't she?" he says. "Maybe we'd better get a game in now before she shows up. She'd never put up with all this slacking off."

"It's on, then," I say, grinning back at him. I can't help feeling a bit pleased with myself. "Why don't you go see what you can find for brooms? I'll finish up in here."

Harry goes, looking happier than he has since he got here. I'm tempted to follow him - I mean, the bloody desks can wait, can't they? - but now I'm thinking about what Hermione would say about that.

I start fixing desks again. Only two more days till she gets here. It's been three weeks since I've seen her and it feels more like three months. We've written a couple of times, but it's hard - it takes Pig a whole week just to get to Australia - and anyway, writing's definitely not the same. I can't ask in a letter if her parents are pressuring her to stay in Australia with them, which is what I've been worried about ever since I left. I know they want her to - they dropped enough hints. Hermione was sort of avoiding the whole subject, which made me worry even more. Because what if they talk her into it? What if she doesn't come back?

**Harry**

Without either one of us needing to say it, Ron and I head straight for the tree after we finish working the next day. Our tree - although I guess somebody else has probably laid claim to it by now.

Ron doesn't seem much inclined to talk, and I'm grateful for it. In a way, it's easier than I thought it would be, coming back here - and in another way, it's much harder. I think it's helping me, though - at least I feel like I'm doing something useful. And the Quidditch game yesterday afternoon made me feel better than I have in weeks.

Something catches my eye. There's someone coming across the lawn toward us, but they're too far away for me to tell who it is. I nudge Ron.

"Who's that?" I say.

Ron opens his eyes. "It's Hermione," he says unhesitatingly, springing to his feet. "She wasn't supposed to come till day after tomorrow, but - " The relief in his voice is unmistakable.

"Better go and meet her, hadn't you?" I say, grinning up at him.

"Huh?" Ron says. "Yeah." He starts across the lawn, deliberately casual at first and then breaking into a run as she gets closer. I watch as he lifts her off her feet, swinging her around in a half-circle.

I give them a moment - several moments - before making my own way across the grass.

"Harry!" Hermione says, hugging me.

"You're nice and brown," I say, looking her over. But the tan can't hide the shadows under her eyes. So Hermione's having a hard time shaking this off, too. For some reason, that makes me feel better.

"Mum and Dad took me to the sea for a week," Hermione says. "It was lovely, but - well, I wanted to be here."

Ron hugs her against his side. The look they exchange makes me feel quite suddenly in the way.

"I'm going in," I say. "Want me to take your bag to the Common Room?"

"Thanks," Hermione says, handing it over.

"You can have a room to yourself," Ron tells her. "Unless you want to share with Lavender and Parvati."

"I had enough of _that_ when we were at school together," Hermione says firmly. "Ginny and I are going to share a room when she gets here tomorrow."

"Ginny's coming tomorrow?" I say, startled.

Hermione gives me one of her looks. "Don't tell me you haven't written to _her_, either," she says.

"How was I supposed to write to anyone?" I demand. "I was camping, remember? And in case you've forgotten, I don't have an owl anymore."

It's no excuse, really - there are plenty of owls here, and Ron would have let me borrow Pig. I can tell Hermione's thinking the same thing, but she's evidently going to let it go for now. I mumble a quick goodbye and make my way back to the castle.

So Ginny's coming tomorrow. Funny she didn't let me know… but I didn't let her know, either, did I? I wanted to, only - well, we left things sort of unfinished.

_"I've got to get away for awhile," I'd said to her in the orchard, the day after Fred's funeral. "It's not you, Ginny - I just need some time on my own."_

_"I understand," Ginny said quietly, her eyes never leaving my face. "Where will you go?"_

_I'd shrugged, not really sure._

_"Godric's Hollow?" Ginny asked._

_"There, yeah," I said. "And - and maybe some other places." Places where there aren't any people. "I just - I don't want to be Harry Potter for a bit, if that makes any sense," I finished lamely._

_"It makes perfect sense," Ginny said. "I wouldn't mind getting away from everything for a while myself." She looked ruefully over her shoulder in the direction of the Burrow._

_"I wish you could come with me," I said, not entirely truthfully. I didn't want anyone around - not even Ginny._

_She looked at me skeptically. "Yeah," she said, after a minute. "Well, goodbye, Harry." She reached up and kissed me - just lightly - and started back toward the house._

_"Ginny," I'd started, and then stopped. I didn't know what I wanted to say. Wait for me? But that wouldn't have been fair, would it? She'd already been waiting a year. And right then I didn't have anything to give her. I didn't have anything to give anyone._

And now? What am I supposed to say now? I'm over it, so will you be my girlfriend again? Yeah, that ought to go over just great.

"Come on, Harry!" Seamus yells, passing me on my way up the stairs. "We're going down to the pub."

I'm not much in the mood for the pub - but the alternative is sitting here watching Ron and Hermione snog each other all night. "I'll be right there," I say to Seamus.

**Hermione**

Ron and I settle down under the tree. He puts his arm around me and I lean my head against his shoulder.

"I didn't expect to see you so soon," he says, hugging me against his side. "I thought your parents would try to talk you into staying on in Australia with them."

"They did," I say. "But I explained to them that I couldn't be away from you any longer, and they quite understood." _Sort of._

Ron pulls away a bit and stares at me. "You told them it was because of me?" he says, sounding almost awed.

"It _is_ because of you," I say, smiling at him. He wasn't the only reason, of course, but it won't hurt to let him think so. Ron could do with a bit more self-confidence.

He kisses me. "I missed you," he says.

"I missed you, too," I whisper.

"You're really brown," Ron says several minutes later, running a finger over my collarbone. "Going to show me your tan lines?"

"Not here, I'm not," I say firmly. "Anyone could look out of the window and see us."

"They ought to be leaving soon," Ron says hopefully. "Everyone goes to the Three Broomsticks every night."

Sure enough, we can see a steady stream of people headed down to the gates. It reminds me of the Hogsmeade weekends when we were at school - except that this time, we actually want to be left behind.

"Excellent," Ron says, watching them go. "We'll have the whole place to ourselves."

"What about dinner?" I ask, letting him lead me across the lawn. I'm not terribly hungry myself, but it's not like Ron to miss a meal.

"We can get something from the house-elves in the kitchen," Ron says. He sees my expression and adds, "It's all right, Hermione. They _like_ feeding people."

"It's not that," I say. "I was just wondering if they were all right. You know, after the battle…"

"They're fine," Ron assures me, turning down the corridor that leads to the kitchens. "They turned out to be pretty good fighters, didn't they?"

"Especially Kreacher," I say, watching as the picture of painted fruit moves aside to reveal the kitchen. The house-elves are all hurrying over to us (poor things; they must be thinking that they never get any time off), but I don't see - "Ron, where's Kreacher?" I ask.

"Dunno," Ron says after a minute. His eyes meet mine. "Hermione, you don't think - "

"Was Miss looking for Kreacher?" one of the other elves squeaks at me. "Kreacher has gone to his master's home, Miss."

His master's home? "Grimmauld Place?" I say. "Does Harry know?"

Ron shrugs. "Kreacher's got a job ahead of him there," he remarks. "You remember what it looked like, Hermione."

I remember, all right. Grimmauld Place was bad enough before, but the Death Eaters tore it apart looking for us. We've only been there once since everything ended - just long enough to see if any of our belongings had survived the search. (They hadn't.)

"He can't possibly do it all on his own," I say blankly. "Ron, don't you think we ought to help- "

"We've got enough on our hands trying to set Hogwarts right," Ron says firmly. "I'll have a word with Harry and let him know what's going on. Now, what do you want to eat?"

It's nice, having the Common Room to ourselves. It's too warm for a fire, but it's quite cozy all the same. I just wish I wasn't so tired.

"It's the traveling," I say apologetically, covering a yawn for the third time. "I don't think it's even the same day in Australia that it is here."

"I never could figure out the time difference exactly," Ron says. "But that's not why you're tired, is it, Hermione?"

I should have known he'd notice. "No," I admit. "I haven't been sleeping very well."

Ron looks worried. "You're still having that nightmare, aren't you?" he says.

"I don't know why I've started having it again," I say, feeling exasperated. "I was doing really well until - " Until Ron left, but I don't want to say so.

He knows, anyway. "Look, do you want to stay with me tonight?" he asks. "I could ask Harry and Neville to bunk in with Dean and Seamus. They wouldn't mind."

"Definitely not," I say, horrified. "They'd all think - well, you _know_ what they'd think!"

"Well, they'd be right, wouldn't they?" Ron says logically. "Anyway, who cares what they think?"

I give him a look.

He sighs. "Well, it was just an idea," he says. "We'll think of something else."

In spite of what I told Ron, I'm almost wishing I'd agreed to his plan when I find myself alone in a dormitory room later. "Don't be silly," I tell myself sternly, getting into bed. I lie down, but I can't bring myself to put the light out.

This is stupid. I'm about to go and knock on Lavender and Parvati's door when I see a silvery mist begin to take shape. As I watch, it forms itself into a small terrier. It leaps soundlessly onto the foot of my bed and turns in a circle, exactly like a real dog, before settling down.

I can't help smiling at it. Just when I'm getting completely exasperated with Ron, he turns around and does something incredibly sweet like this. And it actually does make me feel safer. "Thanks," I whisper to the little dog. "I think I can go to sleep now."

**Ron**

Ginny's not the only one coming today. There are a lot of people who've got regular jobs and can only come at the weekends. Lee Jordan shows up right after Ginny and Bill arrive. Angelina's with him, and so are Oliver Wood, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell.

"There are a bunch of other people coming later on," Lee tells me.

"George?" I ask, but Lee shakes his head.

"I tried," he said. "So did Angelina. He just - I guess he's not ready yet."

"Tell him who else we saw," Angelina says, coming over.

Lee makes a face. "You're not going to believe this," he says.

"It's not Percy, is it?" I ask. That's all we need.

"You're going to wish it was Percy when you hear," Lee says darkly. "No, we saw that Malfoy kid - you know, the one who was in your year? He was in the Three Broomsticks with his mother when we stopped in for a quick drink."

"The Malfoys were in the Three Broomsticks?" I say, stunned. "Got a lot of nerve, don't they?"

"My dad says they're going to get off," Angelina says. "He said Lucius Malfoy's going to claim he did all the things he did because he was being threatened by the Death Eaters - and he's going to get away with it because anybody who can prove otherwise is dead."

"He's got the Dark Mark!" I protest.

Angelina shrugs. "He's also got a lot of gold, doesn't he?" she says cynically.

Wait till Harry hears about this. I look over just in time to see him and Ginny disappearing around a corner together. Well, that's them for the next several hours, isn't it? I catch Hermione's eye and beckon her over to us.

"There are still people who could testify against him," she says quietly, after she's heard Angelina's story. "We could tell what they did to us."

I look at her uneasily. "Sure you're up to it?" I ask.

"What did they do to you two?" Lee asks, exchanging a look with Angelina. The story of what went down in Malfoy Manor still isn't generally known. I ended up telling Bill about it finally, but I haven't told anyone else, and I know Hermione hasn't.

Hermione looks at me hesitantly. I'm saved from answering when the front door opens again.

It doesn't come as a complete shock, because I've been wondering what he was doing in Hogsmeade ever since Lee and Angelina told me they saw him. The hall suddenly goes quiet as people look up and see who's standing there.

Seamus breaks the silence. "What the bloody hell," he says loudly, "are you doing here, Malfoy?"

I hate Malfoy, but even I have to almost admire his cool. "I've come to help repair Hogwarts," he says calmly. "Got a problem with that, Finnegan?"

"Yeah, I've got a problem with it," Seamus says, breathing heavily. "Your kind isn't welcome here, Malfoy."

"I'll bet his father's making him do it," Angelina whispers. "He probably thinks it'll help his case."

Seamus is still glaring at Malfoy. Dean and Neville come to his side, flanked by Oliver, Michael, Terry, Anthony, Ernie, and a bunch of older Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw blokes I only know by sight.

"He's not the only one that's got a problem with it," Michael says to Malfoy. "You and your Death Eaters were the ones that destroyed this school."

Malfoy manges to look bored, but I can see his hands are shaking. "My parents and I were fighting on your side," he says. "Not theirs."

"You weren't," I say furiously. "You weren't fighting at all. And what about you and Crabbe and Goyle trying to kill us in the - "

Hermione grabs my arm. "Ron, don't!" she whispers. It's another story we haven't got round to telling people.

Malfoy looks over at us. "Still dating the Mudblood, Weasley?" he asks.

That's it. I pull my wand out.

"What's going on down here?" McGonagall says from the top of the stairs. She looks down and sees Malfoy.

"It's the first time I've ever seen her lost for words," Lee whispers. "Look at her face."

"What are you doing here, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall says finally.

"I've come to help," Malfoy says. "I've got a right to help, don't I?" He takes a few steps toward her. "I've got a letter from the Wizengamut," he tells her. "They said it was all right for me to come."

McGonagall takes the letter and rips it open. We all watch while she reads it to herself. "Very well," she says finally. "But be warned, Mr. Malfoy. I intend to keep a very close eye on you."

Malfoy looks back at her without saying anything. "Take your bag to one of the dormitories and report back here to me," McGonagall orders. "We'll find you something to do."

Malfoy points his wand at his bag and watches it hover in the air next to him. "I'll go to the Slytherin dormitories," he says calmly.

"Yeah, you'll have those all to yourself!" someone calls.

Malfoy ignores this and starts off in the direction of the dungeons. I start after him.

"Ron, let it go," Hermione says, clutching at my arm again. "I don't care what he calls me."

"Don't worry about it," Dean says to me. "He won't be staying long - not if we make it uncomfortable enough for him." He exchanges a look with Seamus.

Hermione's still looking up at me anxiously. "It's all right," I say, putting my arm around her. "I won't do anything - yet." _But if he calls her Mudblood again, he'll pay for it._

**Harry**

Ginny - as usual - looks absolutely gorgeous. "Can I talk to you?" I ask, a bit tentatively.

"All right," she says. "Want to go for a walk?" She starts away without waiting for me to answer.

"I should have written," I say apologetically to the back of her head.

Ginny pushes the front door open and turns to look at me. "You said you wanted some time alone to get your head straight," she says. "Did you?"

"Yeah," I say. "Mostly, anyway."

She smiles at me. "Good," she says, and reaches for my hand.

I grasp hers gratefully. There's no one like Ginny. Any other girl would've given me a hard time, but not her.

"Ginny?" I say. "I know it's been a long time - and I'll understand if you've changed your mind about me, but - " I hesitate, not really knowing how to finish the sentence. "Do you still want to be my girlfriend" seems a bit lame, doesn't it?

Ginny finishes it for me. "Come here," she says, throwing her arms around my neck. And it's just like it's always been with us; it's like we've never been apart at all.

"There," Ginny says, pulling back and looking at me. "Did that seem as though I'd changed my mind?"

"No," I say, smiling down at her. "It doesn't seem as though you have." I pull her close and kiss her again. I'm dimly aware of someone passing us on the path, but I don't care.

"How'd you talk your parents into this?" I ask finally, leading her a bit further away from the castle.

"I'll be seventeen next week," Ginny reminds me. "Anyway, it's not like it's dangerous anymore, is it? They reckoned I'd be perfectly safe here."

**The Watcher**

I can't believe my good fortune when I discover that Draco Malfoy is actually participating in the Hogwarts repair work. I'll have to approach him carefully, of course. I don't quite dare to re-enter the school grounds, and Malfoy obviously hasn't been asked to join the group that visits the Three Broomsticks on a nightly basis. That's to his credit, in my opinion. It means he's still got his priorities straight. He's still on our side - he just can't show it openly.

I bide my time - it doesn't do to rush these things - and eventually my patience is rewarded. Just two afternoons later, I spot Draco Malfoy - all by himself - walking down the path toward Hogsmeade.

"Hello, Draco," I say, stepping out from behind a tree.

He gasps and actually takes a step backwards. "You!" he says, staring at me. "I thought you were dead."

Did he, indeed? I'm afraid the Aurors may know differently, but all the same, I'm rather relieved. It will make things so much easier if everyone believes I'm dead.

"Seventeen years ago, everyone believed the Dark Lord was dead," I remind him. "They were wrong."

Malfoy looks nervously over his shoulder. "They weren't wrong this time, though, were they?" he asks. "I mean, I saw it happen and he definitely looked dead to me."

Foolish boy. I wonder that the Dark Lord even bothered to recruit him. "Even if the Dark Lord is gone, his work remains to be carried out," I say. "You can help me, Draco."

Malfoy looks even more nervous than before. "Look, we don't want any trouble," he says. "We just want to - I mean, my father said I had to - "

"Had to make it look good?" I offer, and he nods.

"Well, there's no point in us going to prison _now_, is there?" he says defensively. "It's over. And anybody with any sense is going to play along."

"Oh, no, Draco," I say softly. "It's far from over. Now, tell me what you've learned. What have you managed to overhear during your enforced unification with the Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers?" 


	3. Chapter 3

**Ron**

"I think it's time we started on the Great Hall," Bill says after breakfast the next morning. "The rest of you have managed to get so much done that it's really the only big job left - and we've got a good crew this weekend." He looks around at the rest of us. "Well? What do you think?"

I wonder if everyone else is thinking the same thing I am - that if they never went in there again, it'd be too soon. I can still picture it like it was after the battle. Even though I know I'm being stupid - I mean, it's not like all the bodies are still going to be lying in there, is it? - I'm not looking forward to opening those doors.

Hermione slips her hand into mine. I don't think she's in any big hurry to do this, either.

"I think you're right," Harry says finally. "It's - well, it's time, isn't it?"

"I'll go talk to Professor McGonagall about it," Bill says, standing up. "I'll meet the rest of you there in about half an hour."

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are already standing outside the Great Hall waiting for us when we get there. Most of the teachers are there, too.

"Where's Malfoy?" I say, looking around. I don't especially want him helping us, but I don't like not being able to keep an eye on him.

McGonagall overhears me and gives me a grim smile. "As Mr. Malfoy was so eager to help, I've assigned him to work alongside Mr. Filch," she says. "I believe they're scrubbing floors in the dungeons."

"Brilliant," I say, grinning at her. McGonagall looks rather pleased with herself.

_"Alohomora,"_ she says, pointing her wand at the doors to the Great Hall. They open slowly, and McGonagall sweeps in without a second look.

"Come on," I say, taking Hermione's hand. Harry's already gone in ahead of us.

The Great Hall looks even worse now that it's empty. There are bloodstains everywhere. Most of the furniture's damaged, although there are still some benches that look to be in one piece. The wall hangings are a dead loss. Might as well scrap those and get new ones. And those tables… maybe we ought to get rid of those, as well. That's where the bodies were laid out. That's where Fred was. I see Ginny look over at them and then look away quickly.

"I think we'd better start with the tables," someone's saying loudly. "I'll take charge of it - I know all the best way to repair furniture."

Bloody hell. It's Cormac McLaggen. I hadn't noticed him last night. "There's your boyfriend," I whisper, nudging Hermione.

"Shut up," she says, but she's laughing a little. "He was _never_ my boyfriend. He was just a - a mistake."

Yeah, she mistook him for a normal person. Now McLaggen's arguing with Bill and McGonagall.

Hermione looks at me expectantly. "What do you want to do?" she asks.

"Something that's far away from that git," I say, nodding toward McLaggen. "Let's go over here." I lead her toward the platform at the back of the room.

"It feels strange to be back here, doesn't it?" Hermione says, looking around nervously. "I can almost still hear that voice." She shivers a little.

I can, too. "I know," I admit. "Sounded just like the locket, didn't he?"

Hermione stares at me. "It - it _talked_ to you?" she says after a minute.

I thought it talked to everyone. Apparently not.

"Do you mean when you destroyed it?" Hermione asks, still staring at me.

It did a lot more than talk then, but I'm not ready to go there yet. "It talked to me all the time I was wearing it," I say. "Not out loud - I could just sort of hear it in my head."

"I knew it!" Hermione says triumphantly. "I knew there was something. Oh, Ron, why didn't you tell us?"

Because the things the Horcrux was telling me weren't the kind of things you bring up when you're already thinking the girl you're in love with might be falling for your best mate, that's why. It was a lot worse when I was wearing it, but it started before that - the second I took it in my hands…

_Harry was outside, keeping watch, and Hermione and I were in the tent, trying to sleep. My arm was killing me. I turned over in bed and accidentally banged it on the edge of the bunk. I was trying to be quiet in case Hermione was sleeping, but - well, it would have made anyone swear, wouldn't it?_

_Hermione was at my side in a second. "Can't you sleep?" she whispered. "Does your arm hurt?"_

_"It was all right till I jarred it," I said._

_"I'd better have a look," Hermione said, and I could hear her rustling around in the beaded bag. "Here, light your wand so I can see."_

_She undid the bandage carefully and dribbled a bit more dittany onto my arm. "It looks all right," she said, rewrapping it. She leaned over me, touching her hand lightly to my forehead. "You haven't got a fever, anyway," she said, sounding relieved. "That means it's not infected."_

_She was almost close enough to kiss. "Thanks, Hermione," I whispered, reaching up with my good arm. She looked at me, and I swear she leaned a little closer…_

_And then we heard it. "That was Harry!" I said, startled._

_"I'd better go see," Hermione said. "Stay here - no, I mean it, Ron!" And then she was gone._

_I was worried at first, but then I could hear them talking and I knew it was all right. Just one of Harry's You-Know-Who dreams again._

_"She always puts Harry first," a voice in my head whispered. "She goes running to his side and never looks back." It was weird - I was the one thinking it, but it didn't sound like my voice. And it didn't even make any sense, because obviously she had to go and see if he was being attacked or something, didn't she?_

I talked myself out of it that night, but it was only the beginning.

Hermione's still looking at me, waiting for an answer.

"I couldn't tell you," I say. "It was part of the spell, I think."

"So what did it say to you?" Hermione asks, not letting go of the subject.

"It told me Harry didn't know what the hell he was doing," I say, resigned. "And it said you two wanted to be alone with each other, and that I ought to clear out."

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione says, rolling her eyes at me. "_Harry?_ He's like - like my brother, I suppose - if I had one. How could you possibly have thought - "

"It's not that much of a stretch," I argue. "Lots of girls like Harry." My sister, for one. "And you spent just as much time with him as you did with me." More even, because she didn't speak to me for months when I was dating Lavender - but I don't think now's a good time to bring that up.

"I know I did," Hermione says slowly. "I just never felt that way about him. I don't know why."

I don't know why, either, but it's definitely all right with me. "Good," I say. "Just to set the record straight, I've never felt that way about Harry, either."

"Stop it," Hermione says, but she's laughing again. "And I think we'd better get to work, don't you?"

**Harry**

It's not as bad as I'd thought, once we get started. Ginny keeps close to my side, not talking much.

"Are you all right?" I ask, and she nods.

"I'm fine," she says firmly. "It's just a room after all, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I say. "And a lot of good stuff happened in here, too. We have to remember that."

Ginny looks around critically. "It looks awfully bare without the wall hangings, doesn't it?" she observes.

"Luna and Dean are working on new ones, I think," I say. I can see both of them huddled over masses of colored fabric. "Let's go have a look."

"Those look great," Ginny says, leaning over Luna's shoulder to see better. "Look, Harry - that eagle almost looks like it's flying."

"Wait till you see Dean's lion," Luna says.

Slughorn comes puffing up behind us. It's the first I've seen of him since we got in here this morning. "Magnificent," he says, patting Dean's shoulder approvingly. "You've really got a talent there, er - Donald."

Luna looks up. "Have you changed your name, too?" she asks Dean. "I thought Ron had changed his earlier, when Professor Slughorn called him Ralph, but he says he hasn't. I expect it's just a nickname."

Dean's snorting with repressed laughter. Slughorn looks baffled. "As I said, very talented," he repeats. "Have you ever thought of doing something with it?"

Dean stops laughing and stares at Slughorn. "I don't think I'm _that_ good," he says.

"Yes, you are," Ginny says. "You ought to show Professor Slughorn those drawings you did fifth year - you know, the time when Fred and George - " her voice breaks a little, but she goes on bravely. "When Fred and George set off all those fireworks, and then took off on their brooms."

"You've got drawings of that?" I ask, interested. "I've never seen them."

"I never showed them to anyone but Ginny and Seamus," Dean says.

"They're brilliant," Ginny says firmly.

"I'd like to see those," Slughorn says to Dean. "I've heard quite a bit about that little event. I must say, I'm sorry I missed it."

"I could go and get them," Dean says hesitantly. "I've got whole notepads of stuff I've done."

"Excellent, excellent," Slughorn says. "Bring them along to my office later. If they're as good as your work here - well, let's just say that I am not without connections in the artistic world!" He starts off, only to turn around again. "You know, you're forgetting something, aren't you?" he says gently. "I don't see a Slytherin banner here."

Dean and Luna exchange guilty looks. "We were just getting to that one," Luna says, giving Slughorn an angelic smile.

Dean's on his feet the minute Slughorn's waddled away. "You can do the Slytherin one, can't you, Luna?" he asks. "I want to look through my drawings before I show them to Professor Slughorn."

"I wouldn't mind seeing them, either," Luna says. "I like to draw, too. I made a drawing of a Snorkack for the Quibbler one time."

"A what?" Dean says. "No, never mind - don't tell me. Look, if you're sure you want to see them…"

Ginny and I follow them out of the Hall.

"There's an owl," Ginny says. "Wonder who it's looking for?"

Me, as it turns out. And I don't have to wonder who it's from. I can recognize that poison-green ink without even touching the envelope. "Take it back," I say to the owl. "Tell her you couldn't find me."

The owl looks at me reprovingly and drops the letter at my feet.

Ginny leans over to see. "Oh, Rita Skeeter," she says. "I thought you'd be hearing from her."

"She's been sending me owls roughly every three days ever since the battle," I say, making no move to pick it up. "She wants an interview - like I'd give her one, after what she did to Dumbledore."

Neville comes up to us. "You've dropped something, Harry," he says.

"It's from Rita," Ginny tells him.

"Oh, _her_," Neville says. "I've gotten a few of those myself."

I look at Ginny. Recognized the writing awfully fast, didn't she? "Have you been getting them as well?" I ask.

Ginny nods. "I haven't answered any of them," she says. "After the first one I just threw them all in the fireplace."

I see Ron and Hermione coming out of the Hall and beckon them over.

"I haven't heard from her," Hermione says, in answer to my question. She looks at Ron. "You haven't either, have you?"

"I only got one letter," Ron says. "I think someone might have told Rita you were my girlfriend now, because she let me alone after that."

Hermione looks pleased with herself. "I can make her stop, you know," she says to me.

"You can?" Ginny asks. "How?"

"I don't think that'll stop her this time," Ron says, ignoring the question. "And you almost can't blame her. This would be the biggest story of her career - even bigger than that piece she did for the Quibbler."

The Quibbler. That's it. "It won't be such a big story if someone else tells it first, though, will it?" I say, grinning at the others.

Ginny grins back at me. "Xeno Lovegood ought to make a good job of it," she says. "Mind, if someone spots a web-footed mountain goat, you won't be the featured story."

Hermione looks doubtful. "I don't think that's going to be enough to discourage Rita," she says. "Anyway, every journalist in London must be after you."

"They are," I admit. "Rita's just the most persistent."

"Lee Jordan was telling me that the Wizarding Wireless Network's offered him his own show," Ron says. "Seems the director was a big fan of PotterWatch. Anyway, Harry, you could do an interview with him, couldn't you? Sort of an exclusive thing?"

I don't much fancy going on the radio, but if it'd keep Rita off my back…

Ginny's watching me. "It'd do Lee's career a lot of good, too," she says softly. "If you were the subject of his first show, it practically guarantees a lot of listeners."

She's right. And I owe Lee, too. He risked his life to put that show on last year. "I'll do it," I say. "Let's go find Lee."

**Ron**

We managed to finish the Great Hall before everyone left on Sunday, and we're having meals in there again. It felt a bit weird at first, but it's funny how easy it is to get used to things.

The last thing I wanted to do today - or any day - is go into the Forbidden Forest, but Hagrid cornered me and Harry right after lunch and we couldn't get out of it.

"What have we got to do?" I ask uneasily, watching Hagrid stump around his cabin getting ready.

"Ah, it's nothin' dangerous," Hagrid says, but I don't exactly feel reassured. We've heard that one before, haven't we?

Harry's been looking out of the window. "It's raining," he says. We both look hopefully at Hagrid. Maybe he won't want to go out in the pouring rain.

"Just a little sprinkle," Hagrid says, even though it's coming down in buckets. "We won't even notice it once we get under the trees."

That turns out not to be true. It's just as wet in here as it was out there.

"Where are we going?" I ask, a little uneasily. If it's anything to do with giant spiders, I'm out of here.

"Jus' to talk to Firenze," Hagrid says. "He went back to his herd, yeh know. He was hurt pretty bad in that battle, and I want to make sure those other centaurs are treatin' him all right."

Well, that doesn't sound too bad. Except don't the centaurs live sort of near the spiders?

"And then I thought we might drop in on Grawpy," Hagrid adds.

Great. Just great.

"There's an owl," I say hopefully. "It must be looking for one of us." _Please be looking for one of us…_

It's looking for Harry, apparently, because it drops a letter at his feet and immediately takes off, looking annoyed. I don't think owls like rain much, either.

"Not Rita, again, is it?" I ask. I'm pretty sure it isn't, because Harry's opening it instead of chucking it into the forest.

"No, it's from Kingsley," Harry says, scanning the letter. "He's coming to Hogwarts this afternoon, and he wants to see us."

"Us?" I say. "He wants me there as well?"

"And Hermione," Harry says. "He says he's got something he wants to discuss with us. He'll be here at three o'clock."

I look at my watch. "It's nearly half-past two already," I say. "We'd better go."

"Ah, that's a shame," Hagrid says, looking disappointed. "I'll give your regards to Firenze and Grawp."

"What do you think Kingsley wants?" Harry asks as we hurry back toward the castle.

"Dunno," I say. "But whatever it is, I'm grateful to him."

I find Hermione in the library, repairing books with Michael Corner and Terry Boot.

"You ought to at least try them," Michael's saying as I come in. "I'll bet you could pass."

"I couldn't," Hermione says. "You learned all kinds of things seventh year that I've never even tried." She looks up and sees me. "Goodness, you're soaked!" she says. "You'd better go and change into dry things."

"Here comes Madam Pince," Terry says, looking over his shoulder. "You'd better get out of here before she catches you dripping on the books, Ron."

"Come with me," I say to Hermione. "I need to talk to you about something." I don't want to tell her about Kingsley's message in front of Michael and Terry.

"Kingsley wants to see us," I say, once we're safely out in the hall. "All three of us. He didn't say why - but he'll be here in about twenty minutes."

Hermione turns pale. "Ron, you don't suppose we're going to have to testify in front of the Wizengamut, do you?" she asks, clutching my hand.

"I dunno," I say. I'd been wondering that myself. We've already given our statements and all that, but Kingsley did say we might have to come back. "Even if we do, it won't be a big deal," I say. "I'll be with you the whole time." I start to put my arm around her, but remember just in time that I'm dripping wet.

"We'd better hurry," Hermione says. "Where did Kingsley say to meet him?"

I forgot to ask. "Harry knows," I say, hoping he does. "What was Michael talking about when I came in?" I ask, changing the subject quickly.

"Exams," Hermione says. "No one got to take them last spring - obviously - so they're going to have them right before the first week of term in September. Anyone can take them - and anyone who doesn't pass their NEWTs has the option of repeating seventh year at no charge, seeing as the school year was a bit… disrupted."

Disrupted's a good word for it. "Are you going to try them?" I ask. "Michael's right - you could probably pass. You were the cleverest witch in our year."

"It's not a question of being clever," Hermione says. "I never studied any of the material. No, I'm not going to try them."

Well, I'm not either, but it's so obvious that I don't even bother saying so. I start to ask her what she is going to do, but we're almost at the Common Room. We meet Harry on his way out. He's already changed into dry things.

"Kingsley's meeting us in here," he says. "You'd better hurry."

I look at my watch again. We've only got ten minutes, but all of a sudden it seems like I have to know what Hermione's plans are.

"Come up with me while I change," I say to her.

Harry rolls his eyes at us. "You don't have much time," he says again, but Hermione follows me up the stairs anyway.

"What are you going to do?" I ask, shutting the door behind us. "When we're finished here, I mean."

It's funny that we've never talked about it before, but there hasn't been much time. But everyone else seems to know what they'll be doing. Lee's got his radio job, and Dean's all excited because Slughorn sent his drawings to some artist bloke he knows. Even Neville's got plans - he's going to study Herbology at St. Mungo's.

"I don't know," Hermione says slowly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Look for some sort of job, I suppose. It sounds awful to say so, but I really haven't thought ahead that far."

"Neither have I," I say. "Except that I reckon I'll have to look for a job, too."

"What would - oh, not that old sweatshirt, Ron! It's got a big rip in the sleeve." Hermione says.

"It's only Kingsley," I say, pulling it over my head anyway.

Hermione looks horrified. "He's the Minister of Magic," she protests.

"He won't care," I say patiently. "Anyway, none of my other clothes look any better. The only things I have left are the ones you packed for me last year - the ghoul wore everything else while he was living in my room pretending to be me."

"Well, surely you can get them back now," Hermione says.

"I don't _want_ them back," I say. "Did you forget what that ghoul smelled like?"

Hermione smiles a little, but she still looks worried. "You're going to have to have decent clothes if we're going to look for jobs," she says.

Clothes are the least of my worries. "Here, find me a pair of socks that match," I say to distract her. The jeans I'm going to change into are in even worse shape than my sweatshirt.

"Anyway," I say, getting back to the point. "So you wouldn't come back here to finish seventh year, then?"

"No," Hermione says. "I'll be nineteen in September. It just seems as though it's time for me to - to - "

She doesn't finish, but I know what she means. I feel relieved to hear her say it. The thing is, I don't want to come back to school myself - I mean, we've been on our own for a year now - but if Hermione'd wanted to come back, I would've come with her. It sort of scares me, the way I feel about Hermione. All sixth year I kept telling myself it was better not to rush into anything, because - well, she's so _intense_, Hermione. It's all or nothing with her. I never knew I was going to be the one who was that way about her.

"Yeah, " I say. "Me too. I thought maybe Dad could help me find something at the Ministry - course, it'll probably be something boring…"

"Here," Hermione says, handing me a pair of socks. "These don't exactly match, but they're close enough."

"Thanks," I say, kissing her. She leans against me for a minute, and I wish we didn't have to go and meet Kingsley. It's nice and cozy up here, just the two of us, with the rain pounding on the windows…

"Come on," Hermione says, firmly detaching herself. "We'll have to hurry."

Kingsley looks just the same as always. "Good to see you both again," he says, shaking hands with us.

He waits till Hermione and I pull up chairs next to him and Harry before continuing.

"I suppose you're wondering why I asked to see you," he begins.

"Have we got to testify against someone?" Hermione asks anxiously.

"Well," Kingsley says. "Not yet, anyway." He smiles at her, and she relaxes - a little. "No, I've come to ask you what your plans for the future are."

The three of us look at each other blankly. It's pretty obvious that Harry hasn't given it much more thought than Hermione and I have.

"You wanted to be an Auror once," Kingsley says, watching Harry.

"You've got to have at least five NEWTs," Harry says. "That sort of lets me out, seeing as I never went beyond sixth year."

"That could be arranged," Kingsley says. "I've always thought that the Auror Department placed far too much emphasis on academics and not nearly enough on - well, let's call it raw talent. The three of you have that in abundance. If you'd be interested, I think we could see our way clear into accepting you into the Auror training program."

We stare at him. "All three of you," Kingsley adds.

Harry finds his voice first. "It's a three year training program, isn't it?" he asks.

Three years? I can't go three years without making any money. I've got to find a job _now_. I start to say so, but Kingsley's already answering Harry.

"In the past, it's been so, yes," he says. "I went through the process myself, and to be quite honest with you, I found most of it to be a colossal waste of time. There's no substitute for actual experience - some of the most talented performers in the classroom went to pieces when they had to actually use the things they'd been learning. I've been working with Gawain Robards - he's the head of the Auror Department - to develop an accelerated training program where the trainees partner with an Auror for on-the-job training."

"How accelerated?" I ask. Maybe I could manage, if I lived at home for a bit. Only there's Hermione - but surely her parents would help her out.

"One year," Kingsley said. "I wanted six months, but - well, we compromised."

The look on his face when he says this makes me wonder what Gawain Robards really thinks of Kingsley's idea. Something tells me it didn't go down well.

"Oh, and you'd be paid a small salary," Kingsley adds. "Nothing much, at first - think of it as a sort of probationary period - but if you've proven yourself once the year is up, the amount would increase to a regular Auror's pay."

Well, that takes care of everything, doesn't it? And it's what I want to do - it's what I always wanted, except…

"There's just one thing," Kingsley says. "Since you're effectively skipping the first two years, you'll have to pass an entrance exam before they'll let you sign on as trainees."

"What sort of exam?" I ask nervously. "We'd have time to study for it, wouldn't we?"

"You know, the usual sort of thing," Kingsley says vaguely. "Stealth and Concealment, Tracking, Legilimency and Occlumency…"

"But we never studied any of that," Hermione protests.

Kingsley smiles at her. "What would you call what you were doing all last year?" he asks. "I think you'll find you know everything you need to know in order to pass."

The three of us look at each other again.

"I know it's a big decision," Kingsley says, getting to his feet. "But I'm afraid I'll need your answers quite soon." He smiles at us again. "The thing is, the Auror Department's a bit depleted at the moment," he says confidentially. "We need new recruits, and we need them as soon as possible."

I notice he didn't mention why they're depleted, but it doesn't matter. We all know.

Kingsley starts toward the portrait hole. "Professor McGonagall's kindly invited me to stay for dinner," he says over his shoulder. "Do you think you could let me know afterwards?"

**Hermione**

Harry drops down on a sofa, looking dazed. "It's what you always wanted," I say to him.

"It's what I always _thought_ I wanted," Harry corrects me. "I didn't think it was still possible." He gets to his feet again. "I think I'll go for a walk," he says, and leaves.

He's going to find Ginny, I'd bet anything. Ron looks after him uncertainly. "I thought he'd be happy," he says.

"He will be," I say. "He just needs time to take it in, that's all. And it's what he's meant to do - I don't see Harry working at a desk job." I look at Ron. "Or you, either," I add. "Well, you won't have to worry about being bored as an Auror."

"What about you?" Ron asks.

"I don't know," I say slowly. "I - I have a feeling I'd be one of the ones Kingsley was talking about - good in the classroom, and then going to pieces when I was confronted with the real thing."

"You wouldn't," Ron argues. "Look at everything we went through last year - we'd have been dead loads of times if it hadn't been for you."

"But that's just it," I say, looking up at him unhappily. "Everything we went through last year - I don't want to do it anymore, Ron! I don't want to go on living on the edge all the time!"

Ron sits down and pulls me into his lap. "This is about the house-elf thing, isn't it?" he says with a sigh.

"Well," I say, playing with the torn sleeve of his sweatshirt. "You know how I feel about the way house-elves are treated. And it's not just house-elves, either. Look at - well, look at goblins! If wizards and goblins had better relations - "

"House-elves, yeah, but goblins can look after themselves," Ron says.

"And the centaurs," I say, ignoring this. "And giants."

Ron sighs again. "What are you getting at?" he asks.

"I don't know, exactly," I admit. "Isn't there any department at the Ministry that deals with house-elves?"

"Well, there's the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," Ron says, frowning. "That's who Charlie works for. I reckon house-elves would fall into that category - and centaurs, and goblins, and giants, and all that sort of thing."

"That's what I want, then," I say. "I'll tell Kingsley tonight."

Ron looks unconvinced. "You're sure about this, Hermione?" he asks. "It might not be exactly what you think it is."

"I'm sure," I say, kissing him. "Just as I'm sure that you'll make a really good Auror."

"I hope so," Ron says, looking worried. "I - " he stops.

"What?" I ask.

"Hermione, you don't think they just asked me because of Harry, do you?" he says in a low voice.

Honestly. "No, of course I don't," I say firmly. "You're every bit as talented as Harry and I are. Weren't you the one who thought of getting the basilisk's tooth so we could destroy the Horcrux? And you got us into the Chamber of Secrets to do it. And you saved Harry from drowning - and you saved me from Bellatrix - "

"That was Dobby," Ron says, but he looks relieved. "You really think I can do it, Hermione?"

"I know you can," I say. "And I'll help you study for that exam."

He pulls me closer. "There's one good thing - I won't have to worry about you all the time if you're in a nice safe office all day," he says.

"And it's perfectly all right for me to worry about you, I suppose?" I say indignantly, and he laughs.

"They won't have us do anything dangerous right at first," he says confidently. "It won't be anything, I'll bet - not compared to what we've been through." He kisses me again, one hand playing with my hair and the other…

"Not here!" I say, slapping it away. "Anyone could walk in."

"Come upstairs, then," Ron says, undeterred. "Neville and Harry won't be back for at least an hour."

I should probably go back to the library, but… "All right," I say. "But just for an hour."

**Harry**

They're my best friends, but I can't talk about it to them. I can't talk about it to anyone - not when I'm not even sure what I'm thinking. "It's what you always wanted," Hermione said, and she's right - but part of me has had enough of death and destruction; of always being on the run and trying to outwit Voldemort…

I don't even realize where I'm going until I'm there.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" Ginny asks, looking up at me in surprise. "I thought you and Ron were helping Hagrid today."

"Change in plans," I say briefly, not wanting to tell her in front of Luna and Neville. "Can you take a break and come for a walk with me?"

"Go on," Neville says. "It's only an hour till dinner time, anyway. Luna and I can finish up without you."

"Get rid of those Wrackspurts," Luna advises.

"Thanks," I say, grinning at her.

It's stopped raining, but the ground under our feet is wet. "Do you mind walking?" I ask Ginny. "There's not really anyplace to sit down."

"I know where we can go," Ginny says, taking my hand.

She leads me to the Quidditch field. "It ought to be dry enough in the changing room," she says. "And it'll be private."

Good enough. "Kingsley came to see us today," I begin, sitting down on a bench next to her.

Ginny listens quietly without interrupting - another thing I love about her. "It's what you want to do, isn't it?" she says, when I've finished.

"I don't know," I say hopelessly. "I don't know what else I'd be good at - nothing, probably - but…"

"You just need to give yourself some time," Ginny says, taking both of my hands in hers. "What you went through - it was horrible. But the thing is, you're brilliant at it, Harry. And I don't think you'd be happy doing anything else."

"Neither do I," I admit.

Ginny squeezes my hands. "Whatever you decide, I'll be there for you," she says.

"I know you will," I say, kissing her gratefully. "And I think I've already decided. I just needed to get my head straight. I'll tell Kingsley tonight after dinner."

"Will you have to leave right away?" Ginny asks.

That stops me. "I've no idea," I admit. "Kingsley said there was an exam we'd got to pass first - I expect they'd give us some time to study for it. Hermione's probably already started."

"Hermione's not considering it, is she?" Ginny asks, looking surprised.

"I didn't ask her," I say, equally surprised. "She'd be good at it, but - "  
>Now that I think about it, Hermione's never expressed the slightest desire to be an Auror. Ron, yeah, but not Hermione. "I don't know what she wants to do," I say.<p>

**Hermione**

"You're sure that's what you want, Hermione?" Kingsley asks. He looks surprised. I expect he thinks I'm crazy, turning down a chance to join the Aurors.

"I'm sure," I say. "I want to help house-elves."

"That'd be Magical Creatures, wouldn't it?" Ron says.

"The Being division, yes," Kingsley says slowly. "There's something called the Office of House-Elf Relocation - I'm not entirely sure what they do there, but - "

"Relocate house-elves?" Ron says, grinning at him, and Kingsley laughs.

"Sounds about right, doesn't it?" he says. "Well, I'll have a word with the Department Head, then. I'm sure he can find a place for you."  
>He looks at me again. "You're sure, Hermione? It might not be quite what you're expecting."<p>

Why does everyone keep saying that to me? "I'm positive," I say firmly.

"All right," Kingsley says. "I'll see what I can do, and someone will be in touch to set up your interview."

Interview? Oh dear. I've never been on a job interview before. I wonder if it's like Muggle interviews. Maybe I ought to have a C.V.

"Now as for you two," Kingsley says, turning to Ron and Harry. "You want to join us, then? I mean, the Aurors."

Kingsley's evidently having a hard time forgetting he's not an Auror anymore.

"Yes," Harry and Ron say together.

"Kingsley?" Ron says. "About this test thing…"

"Oh, that," Kingsley says dismissively. "It'll be - let me see…" He pulls a crumpled bit of parchment out of his pocket and scrutinizes it. "Three weeks from tomorrow, nine o'clock sharp at the Auror Office."

Ron throws me a panicked look. "You'll be fine," I whisper, squeezing his hand.

"That'll give you plenty of time to finish up here," Kingsley says, waving his hand vaguely around the Hall. "And you can brush up on your spellwork - although as I've said, I don't think you'll have any trouble. Not after what you've done!" He beams at all of us.

"Kingsley?" Harry says. "There's just one thing. My Apparition test. You see, I never quite - well, I never got round to - "

Kingsley bursts out laughing. "You mean, you've never gotten your Apparition license?" he says incredulously.

"Well, I couldn't exactly go strolling into the Ministry last year asking to be tested, could I?" Harry says. "Not when I was a wanted criminal."

"I suppose you _can_ Apparate?" Kingsley says, still grinning.

Harry grins back. "I've gotten pretty good at it," he says.

Kingsley reaches into his pocket. "Here," he says, pulling out a scrap of parchment and scribbling something on it. "This is your temporary Apparition license. I'll have a proper one processed for you when I get back to the office."

"You mean that's it?" Harry asks. "I don't have to take the test or anything?"

"We'll make an exception," Kingsley tells him. He turns to me and Ron. "What about you two? Done your tests already?"

"Yes," I say for both of us, since Ron appears to be incapable of speech. I lean closer to him. "It didn't hurt you to take the test anyway," I whisper. He rolls his eyes at me.

Kingsley's getting up to go. "You'll be receiving further instructions by owl post," he says to all of us. "I suppose you'll still be here next week - if not, I'll send them to the Burrow." He waves at us and strolls out of the Hall.

Harry looks at me. "Do you know where you're going to live?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Lavender and Parvati and Padma are all going to be sharing a flat in London," I say, a bit dubiously. "They asked me this morning if I want to go in with them."

"Yeah, and _that_ won't be uncomfortable at all when I come to visit you," Ron says, looking outraged. "You don't want to live with all those girls, do you?"

"You know I don't," I tell him. "But I can't afford to take something by myself. I don't expect to be making much money to start out with."

Harry clears his throat. "Why can't you both move in with me?" he asks. "I've got a house, remember?"

Grimmauld Place. I remember that house-elf telling us that Kreacher had gone back there, but surely…

"It wasn't exactly livable, the last time we saw it," I say.

"Kreacher came to see me last night," Harry says. "He and some of the other house-elves have been working on fixing the place up. And don't give me that look, Hermione - they _wanted_ to do it."

I'm sure they did - but it's a great deal to ask, even of house-elves. Even knowing what they're capable of, I can't imagine they've been able to make much difference in such a short amount of time.

"We can do a bit ourselves once we're finished here," Ron says hastily. "Look, Harry, even if it needs work - well, I'd rather live with you than anywhere. Wouldn't you, Hermione?"

"If you're sure you want us - " I say hesitantly. It would be a perfect solution, wouldn't it?

"Course I want you," Harry says firmly. "I don't want to live there on my own. It's way too big, for one thing. And - "

He doesn't finish, but I know what he means. I wouldn't want to live alone there, either. I don't think I'd be able to sleep.

"In that case, we'd love to live with you," I say, smiling warmly at Harry.

"Just one thing," Ron says. "If we're going to live there, we're going to pay you rent money."

Harry looks uncomfortable. "That's stupid," he protests. "I already own the place - it doesn't cost any more to have you two there."

"You'll have to buy more food," Ron points out. He's wearing his stubborn look, and I can tell he's not going to budge on this one. He's always had a bit of a thing about not having any money.

I guess Harry can tell, too. "Fine," he says, looking exasperated. "We'll split the food bill three ways. Will that do you?"

"That'll do just fine," Ron says happily. He throws his arm around my shoulders. "Go tell Lavender and Parvati they'll have to get someone else," he says. "You're going to live with us."

"I'm supposed to meet Ginny at the Three Broomsticks," Harry says, looking at his watch. "Are you two coming?"

I nearly walk into someone lurking just outside the door. "What are you doing skulking about here, Malfoy?" Ron demands. He and Harry both have their wands out.

Much to my surprise, Malfoy turns away. "Nothing," he mutters, hurrying off toward the dungeons.

"I'll bet he was listening," I say.

"So what?" Harry says, shrugging. "He can't do anything to stop us - not anymore."

**The Watcher**

"This was a stupid place to meet," Malfoy says, looking around uneasily. "Anyone could spot us here."

"We're in the middle of the forest," I point out, not very patiently. "I hardly think we'll encounter anyone."

"That half-breed Hagrid's always poking around in the forest," Malfoy says stubbornly.

Really, I feel almost sorry for Lucius and Narcissa. "Hagrid, at this moment, is on his way to Diagon Alley to purchase his teaching supplies for the start of the school term," I say. "I took the precaution of learning his schedule before deciding on a meeting place."

"Oh," Malfoy says, looking slightly relieved. "Wonder what he's buying. I'll bet it's something illegal." He snickers. "Be fun to get the big oaf arrested, wouldn't it?"

"We are not here to draw attention to ourselves," I remind him. "Now, what news have you for me?"

"Wait'll you hear this," Malfoy says eagerly. "They're going to be Aurors. I heard them talking to Shackelbolt last night."

I'd expected nothing less of Potter - as Dolores was fond of reminding me in the old days, it was the boy's biggest ambition - but I'm surprised to hear the others are joining him. "All three of them?" I ask.

"Not the Mudblood," Malfoy says. "She's going to work for Magical Creatures or something. Guess she knows brains aren't as much use as breeding when it comes right down to it." He laughs again.

Breeding doesn't seem to have done much for young Malfoy, either, but I keep my opinion to myself. "The other one, then?" I say. "Weasley?"

Malfoy looks disgusted. "If you ask me, he's only getting in because of Potter," he says. "Watch, he won't last a month. His Mudblood girlfriend did all his homework for him when we were at school - he'll never survive without her."

Possibly, but I think Malfoy's making the mistake of underestimating Weasley. Not that it matters. Draco Malfoy is certainly dispensable.

Malfoy looks at me hopefully. "They'll all be leaving pretty soon," he says. "I reckon you won't need me after that, will you?"

"On the contrary," I say softly. "You've been very useful so far, Draco, and I fancy keeping you around a bit longer. Now, you can't get into the Auror training program, but I don't think you'd have much trouble securing a position with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, do you?"

"I don't want to work there," Malfoy protests. "I hated that bloody class at school! Why can't I work for Magical Sports and Games or something?"

The boy really is a fool, isn't he? "Because Hermione Granger doesn't want to work for Magical Sports and Games," I say. "She wants to work for Magical Creatures. Therefore, Draco, that is where you also want to work."

"Oh," Malfoy says, considering. His face brightens. "I could really mess things up for her there, couldn't I?" he says. "She'll wish she'd never taken that job!"

Whatever it takes. "Do your worst, then, Draco," I say, and he smiles at me. Suddenly, he looks a great deal like Lucius. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Harry**

"I think you'd better read through this one," Hermione's saying to Ron when I come downstairs the next morning. There's an enormous pile of books on the table next to them. "And this one may not come up, but it's just as well to be prepared. And then this  
>one-"<p>

"Harry!" Ron says, looking relieved. "Hermione was just helping me put a study schedule together. Don't you want to join us?"

"Sorry," I say, grinning at them. "I'm taking off for the day."

Ron stares at me, looking betrayed. "Where?" he demands.

"I'm going to see my godson," I answer.

"Good," Hermione says approvingly. "I think that's an excellent idea."

Ron turns to her. "Why does _he_ get the day off?"

"Because _he_ didn't ask me to help him," Hermione says firmly.

"I think you'd be better off practicing spells," I say, feeling sorry for Ron. "Kingsley said the exam was mostly practical, didn't he?"

"Harry's right," Ron says to Hermione. "Maybe I ought to practice Stunning you."

Hermione looks appalled. I leave quickly while I can still keep a straight face. I run into Ginny in the corridor.

"Going out?" she asks, surprised. "I thought you were going to study for that exam."

"I'm going to see Teddy Lupin," I tell her. I've been putting this visit off for weeks now, but I'm really starting to feel guilty about it.

"That's nice," Ginny says. "I'll bet he's grown like anything."

"Come with me," I say impulsively.

Ginny considers for less than half a second. "All right," she says. "But you'll have to take me. I can't Apparate on my own till next week."

Andromeda answers the door herself. "Harry!" she says, looking surprised but pleased. "I hadn't expected - but I'm very glad you're here." She looks at Ginny. "You're a Weasley, I know, but I don't know which one," she says, smiling.

I introduce Ginny quickly. "Could I see Teddy?" I ask.

"Of course," Andromeda says. "He's been having a nap, but he usually wakes up about now. Excuse me." She disappears, leaving us in the small sitting room.

"Bloody hell, she looks exactly like Bellatrix," Ginny whispers. "I nearly had a heart attack when she opened the door."

"I know," I say. "You get used to it." I wander around the sitting room, examining the photographs. There are several of Teddy. I pick up one where Lupin's holding him, then set it down quickly, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"He was so pleased, wasn't he?" Ginny says softly.

"It wasn't fair," I mutter.

"No, it wasn't," Andromeda says from the doorway. "And it wasn't fair that your parents died so young, either, Harry. But it's harder on those of us who are left behind, I think."

She's holding Teddy in her arms. He looks at us curiously.

"He looks exactly like Tonks," Ginny says, delighted. She holds out her arms. "May I?"

The baby goes to her without hesitation. He grabs a strand of her long, red hair, examining it closely.

"He's never seen hair that color before," Andromeda says, looking amused. "Watch what he does."

Teddy's little face is screwed up in concentration. Suddenly his hair turns a bright red, the exact same shade as Ginny's. He looks up at her and crows happily.

"Aren't you clever," Ginny says, kissing him. "Here, do you want to hold him, Harry?"

"I've never held a baby before," I say nervously.

Ginny and Andromeda exchange amused glances. "It's easy," Ginny says. "Here, sit down and I'll put him on your lap."

I'm afraid Teddy's going to cry, but he accepts the change calmly. He reaches for my glasses.

"Don't let him," Andromeda warns. "You'll never get them back in one piece."

I take my glasses off and stuff them in my pocket, even though it means I can't see more than a few feet in front of me. Teddy looks disappointed, and I hastily feel around in my pocket for something else to offer him.

"Here," I say, pulling out a Snitch from yesterday's Quidditch match. It immediately flutters away, and Teddy watches it in fascination.

"He looks like Dora, but his personality is much more like his father's," Andromeda says. "Dora never had the attention span that Teddy does."

She catches my look of surprise and adds, "I became quite fond of Remus, you know. Ted and I weren't best-pleased at first to have our daughter marry a werewolf, but - well, he was a wonderful man, wasn't he?"

"Yeah," I say. "Yeah, he was."

I hadn't wanted to come here, but now I'm glad I did.

"So you two have been helping to repair Hogwarts," Andromeda says. "Do you think it'll be ready by September 1st?"

"It's nearly finished now," Ginny says. "I suppose I'll just have enough time to go to Diagon Alley for my books before it'll be time to come back again."

Andromeda looks at me. "What about you, Harry? You never finished, did you?"

"No," I say. "But I'm not going back. I'm going into the Auror training program - if I can pass the exam."

Andromeda approves of Kingsley's idea. "Dora always said there wasn't enough emphasis on actual field work," she says. "Of course, Ted and I rather liked the classroom years, because at least we knew she was safe, but…" Her voice trails off.

"Harry and Ron are both a bit worried about passing the exam," Ginny says quickly. "Of course, I'm sure they'll be fine - or Harry will, anyway."

"I'd feel better if I knew what they were going to ask us to do," I admit.

"I remember Dora taking some sort of exam," Andromeda says, frowning. "Let me think… I know she had to disguise herself - she didn't have any trouble with that, of course - and then there was something about having to conceal herself from an imaginary enemy…"

Ginny giggles. "She told me about that once!" she says. "She knocked over a chair and nearly gave the whole thing away!"

Andromeda smiles. "She was never very good at the stealth bit," she says. "Still, she managed to pass - and I'm sure you will, too, Harry."

"What else?" I ask desperately. "Can you remember if she told you anything else?"

Andromeda considers. "She had to disarm the instructor," she says. "And demonstrate Occlumency and Legilimency. Oh, and she had to prove she could do a Conjuring Charm. I think that was all, really."

Conjuring Charms? There's one I've never learned, although I'm pretty sure I've seen Hermione do it. I'm not worried about the disguise or concealment bits - we did that every day last year - but Conjuring's something else. Not to mention Occlumency…

"You'll be fine," Andromeda says again, but all of a sudden, I'm not so sure.

**Ron**

This studying thing hasn't been half-bad, so far. Hermione goes at it just like she did when we were in school, complete with color-coded schedules, but at least now I get a kiss every time I get something right.

"You should've thought of this two years ago," I say, after I've successfully Disarmed her for the third time. "Maybe I would have got more than seven OWLs."

"All the kissing in the world wouldn't have helped you pass Divination," Hermione says, which is probably true. "And I think we ought to try Conjuring Charms again."

Conjuring Charms, needless to say, are completely beyond me. Hermione can do them - of course - but I can't seem to manage it.

"Forget it," I say finally, giving up in despair. "I can't do it. If it's on the exam, it's all over for me."

Hermione comes up behind me and starts rubbing my shoulders. "You just need a bit more practice," she says consolingly. "And anyway, I think it's that wand. You really need to get a new one. And so do I." She looks critically at Bellatrix's wand, which she's still using.

"Wands are expensive," I remind her. "We haven't got those jobs yet."

"I know," Hermione says. She looks at me apologetically. "I'm sorry, love, but I think you're going to stand a much better chance on that exam if you have your own wand. That one you've been using - "

"It was Wormtail's," I say. "Not exactly good luck, is it?" It works okay for me, which I reckon is because I took it off Wormtail by force, but it's never felt exactly right. It feels too short for me or something. Hermione's right - I'll never pass that exam if I'm using this thing. "Maybe I can borrow some money from Dad," I say.

"There you are," Hermione says, relieved. "And I've still got plenty of Muggle money. I just need to get it changed at…" her voice trails off as she remembers.

"We'll ask Bill to do it for you," I say quickly.

"We're going to have to go back in there sometime," Hermione says. "But maybe just this once, Bill wouldn't mind."

"I'll send him an owl," I promise. "This might be sort of fun. I've never really picked out my own clothes before."

"I'll help you," Hermione says, already reaching for parchment to make a list. She looks up and eyes me sternly. "And _nothing_ of yours," she adds, "is going to be maroon."

**Hermione**

Mr. Ollivander's shop is dark and all of the blinds are drawn. "That's strange," I say, frowning. "Luna told me he'd opened it up again."

"Well, _Luna_," Ron says, but it's not the sort of thing Luna usually gets wrong. Anyway, she said he'd written to her.

"Let's knock," I say. "Maybe he just closed the blinds to - to keep out the sun or something."

Ron leans over me and raps loudly on the door. "Mr. Ollivander?" he calls. "Are you in there?"

We wait several minutes, but there's no response. Finally I see the edge of the blind lifting. "Mr. Ollivander?" I say. "It's Hermione and Ron. We've come to get new wands."

There's a pause, and then the door opens a crack. "Come in, quickly," Mr. Ollivander whispers, glancing past us down the street. He locks the door firmly behind us, all the while looking nervously over his shoulder.

Ron and I look uncertainly at each other.

"Now, then," Mr. Ollivander says, turning to look at us. "Lovely to see you both again! New wands, is it? Yes, I remember you'd both lost yours to the Death Eaters… well, who wants to be first?" He smiles widely, pulling a tape measure from his pocket.

For once in my life I can't think of anything to say.

"Er, Mr. Ollivander?" Ron says. "If you don't mind us asking, just what was that all about?"

"Oh, that," Mr. Ollivander says. "Well, the truth is, I'm dodging Lucius Malfoy. He's looking for a new wand, and I'd just as soon not be the person to sell it to him."

Malfoy? "He got off, then," I say blankly. Ron puts his arm around me.

"His case hasn't come to trial yet," Mr. Ollivander says. "There are quite a few others ahead of him - as I'm sure you can imagine. But they didn't have enough evidence to hold him in Azkaban until the trial date."

"Not enough evidence?" Ron says furiously. "What about the Dark Mark? What about all of us being kidnapped and taken to his house?"

Mr. Ollivander looks anxious. "Yes," he says. "That's another reason I'm not eager to see Lucius."

Oh dear. "Would you rather we came back some other time?" I ask.

"Nonsense, my dear," Mr. Ollivander says firmly. "You two are always welcome in my shop. Now, shall we begin with you? Let me think - your last wand had a core of dragon heartstring, didn't it?"

It doesn't take long to fit both of us with new wands. For all his protestations, Mr. Ollivander looks rather relieved to see us go.

"I wouldn't like to see Lucius Malfoy myself," I say, a bit nervously.

"Relax," Ron says, taking my hand. "We're not going to run into him here. Anyway, he wouldn't dare do anything to us - not with what we know about him."

He's right. It's a beautiful day, and for once we can just enjoy ourselves without having to constantly look over our shoulders. "Let's go in here," I say, pulling him toward a shop that claims to sell Muggle clothing.

**Ron**

By the time Hermione's finally done picking out clothes, it's nearly two o'clock. No wonder I'm starving. "Let's have some lunch before we go back," I say, taking the bags from her.

Hermione's looking at her list. "I think we've got everything," she says. "Are you sure those robes I picked out will be all right for an interview?"

"They're fine," I say. "Everything you got was brilliant, and you looked gorgeous in all of it. Can we please get something to eat?"

Hermione laughs and shoves the list into her pocket. "Come on," she says.

The lunch rush is over, and it's not crowded at all in the Leaky Cauldron. "I suppose we can go back to Hogwarts after this," Hermione says. "Unless…" She hesitates, looking at me.

I hope she doesn't want to try on more clothes. If she does, I'm ordering wine with lunch. "Unless what?" I say.

"I thought we might want to stop in and see how George is doing," Hermione says quietly.

"Yeah, we could do that," I say, a little ashamed that I didn't think of it myself. "I hope Percy's not there."

The joke shop looks the same - almost. Verity's behind the counter when we walk in. "Hi, Ron," she says, coming to meet us. "I thought you were helping out at Hogwarts."

"We had to take a day off to buy new wands," I say, even though it's pretty obvious from all the bags we're carrying that we bought a hell of a lot more than just wands. "You know Hermione, don't you?"

"Ooh, Madam Pearl's!" Verity says, leaning over the counter to look at the bag in Hermione's hand. "I love her shop. Did you get anything good?"

Hermione starts to show her. "Where's George?" I interrupt. It was bad enough having to look at all those clothes the first time - I don't need to see them again.

Verity looks worried. "He's been in the back all day," she says quietly.

In the back? But the shop's really busy. "Shouldn't he be out here with you?" I ask.

Verity shrugs. "It's a bit much for him sometimes," she says. "And Percy's here helping. He's with some customers just now, but I can call him if you like."

"There's no need to disturb Percy on our account," I say quickly. Verity giggles, but Hermione gives me a reproving look. "I'll just look in on George."

I take the long way round to the back room. Percy working in a joke shop - I've got to see this one for myself.

It's even worse than I'd thought. "Now this is most amusing," he's telling a couple of about Mum and Dad's age. "This ink may look like it's black, but when you write with it, you'll find that it's actually blue!" He laughs loudly. "I thought up that one myself."

The woman looks uncertainly at her husband. "Is that supposed to be funny?" she whispers.

Maybe it is if you're Percy. I know George is depressed, but if he doesn't get out here soon he's not going to have a shop to come back to.

"Oh, hi," George says when I find him in the back room. "What're you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too," I say.

"Sorry," George says. "I thought maybe Mum sent you to check up on me."

I shake my head. "Hermione and I had to do a bit of shopping," I say, gesturing with the bags in my hand. I notice that the top one is from Madam Persephone's Lingerie Shop (Hermione's stuff again) and quickly hide it behind the others.

The old George would've given me a hard time about that, but this one doesn't seem to notice. "Well, sit down if you like," he says.

"I'd rather have you show me round the shop," I say. "Haven't you got any new stuff?"

George shakes his head. "I don't seem to have any new ideas lately," he says. "Percy's come up with a few things, but they don't seem to be selling."

"Maybe because they're not funny," I say. "Come on, George. We're talking about _Percy_ here, remember?"

George grins reluctantly. "He's been really decent to me," he says. "You know, ever since…"

"Did you expect him to be horrible?" I say. "If you've got to keep him around, at least stick him in the back and let him do accounts or something. He's driving your customers right out the door."

George shrugs. "It doesn't matter," he says. "I may close the shop. It's - it's not the same without Fred."

"Of course it matters," I say. "Do you think Fred would have let this place fall apart? After everything you two went through getting it started? And what about your customers? People are ready for a laugh right now, after everything that happened last year. You can't just let all of them down."

George is staring at me like I've got two heads. I guess he's never heard me talk like this before.

"And what about Verity?" I say, warming up. "If you close the shop she'll be out of a job, won't she?"

"Verity could find another job," George says, but he looks uncomfortable. "Look, Ron, you don't get it. I know Fred was your brother, too, but he wasn't your twin. How do you think you'd be right now if you'd lost Harry in the battle? Or Hermione?"

"I almost did lose both of them," I say.

George looks startled. "I knew about Harry," he says. "Well, we all thought he was dead, didn't we? But what happened to Hermione?"

"It wasn't during the battle," I say. Maybe I ought to tell him. It'd take his mind off things, wouldn't it? "If I tell you, you can't say anything to anyone," I warn him. "Especially not Percy."

"You don't seriously think I'd tell Percy anything good," George says, and for a minute he looks almost like his old self. "Go on, let's have it."

He's silent when I've finished telling the story. "So that's why you all ended up at Bill's place," he says finally. "We wondered… but Bill didn't seem to know anything, either."

"He knows now," I say. "But we haven't told anyone else - at least, I haven't. Harry's going to be the first guest on Lee Jordan's radio program, so he'll probably tell the whole story then."

"What _is_ the whole story?" George asks, leaning forward. "You can tell me, can't you? I promise I won't let on."

It's the first time I've seen him get excited about anything since - well, since Fred died. "There's not really time to tell it properly just now," I say, struck by a sudden idea. "But I'll give you a hint. If you can figure out what a ring, a diary, Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's lost diadem and Voldemort's snake all have in common, you'll know what we had to do last year."

"Ravenclaw's lost _what_?" George says. "Is that some sort of ladies' underwear thing?"

"Nope," I say, grinning at him.

George looks exasperated. "All right, let me have them again," he says, reaching for a quill. "A ring, a diary - would that be Voldemort's diary, by any chance?"

"Maybe," I say. "Send me an owl when you've got it worked out. I've got to get back to Hogwarts."

"You're not seriously going to leave it at that!" George says.

I shrug. "If you want to hear the whole story, you'll have to come to Hogwarts," I say. "I'd better go rescue Hermione - Percy's probably boring her to death out there."

George gets up to follow me. "You really think Percy's driving off customers?" he asks suddenly.

"Blue ink that looks black in the bottle," I remind him. "Not funny." I open the door. "Come on out and say hello to Hermione."

"All _right_," George says, throwing me an irritated look. "No wonder Mum didn't bother coming to nag me this week - she knew you'd be even more annoying than she is."

I don't care what he says. It's working, that's the main thing. Verity's waiting on a customer and Hermione's talking to Percy when George and I come out.

"Lovely to see you, Ron," Percy says, bustling over to shake hands. "Hermione's been telling me about your plans. So you and Harry are going to be Aurors!"

"You are?" George says, looking startled.

"Only if we can pass the entrance exam," I say quickly. I sort of wish Hermione hadn't told Percy - I don't want him giving me advice. "Hermione's going to work in the Department of Magical Creatures," I add, throwing it right back at her. "Maybe you can give her a few tips."

"Delighted," Percy says, rubbing his hands together. "Now, Hermione, when you go for your interview…"

We finally escape when Percy can't think of any more details to bore Hermione with. "Sorry about that," I say, putting my arm around her. "But you handle him better than I do."

"It wasn't so bad," Hermione says. "At least I found out I don't need a C.V."

"A what?" I ask.

Hermione ignores this. "I'm glad you got George to come out of the back room," she says. "Verity's been awfully worried about him."

"George'll pull through," I say. "I have a feeling he might even turn up at Hogwarts one of these days."

Hermione kisses me suddenly, even though we're in the middle of Diagon Alley. "What was that for?" I ask.

"Just - oh, because I think you're wonderful," Hermione says.

"Thanks," I say, pleased but embarrassed. "Ready to go back to Hogwarts now?"

Hermione nods. "It's good Verity's there, too," she says. "She's in love with George, so she'll look after him properly."

She is? "Did she tell you that?" I ask, wondering how I could have missed it.

"She didn't _have_ to tell me," Hermione says patiently. "It was obvious."

It was? "I'll take your word for it," I say. "Er, does George know?"

Hermione considers. "Not yet," she says. "But I think he'll figure it out sooner or later."

**Hermione**

Poor George. I remember seeing him in the garden, right before Fred's funeral. Ron and I had been on our way downstairs when we heard an all-too-familiar voice coming from the sitting room.

_"You want to watch George carefully, Molly," it said loudly. "Twins often get strange when one of them dies. Sometimes they're even suicidal."_

_"Bloody hell, it's Muriel," Ron whispered, looking horrified. "We don't want to go in there."_

_My sentiments exactly. "Let's go outside," I said, taking his hand and leading him quickly into the garden._

_It was a moment before I realized we weren't alone. George was sitting by himself on an upturned wheelbarrow. "Oh, it's you two," he said, glancing over his shoulder at us. "Mum send you to check up on me?"_

_"We haven't even seen her," Ron protested. "We're just hiding from Auntie Muriel."_

_George gave us a ghost of a smile. "She thinks I'm going to off myself," he said. "I heard her through the window."_

_Ron gave me a "say_ something" _look. "George," I said helplessly, feeling a bit lost for words._

_"I'm not, you know," George said. "I wouldn't do that to Mum and Dad." He got to his feet. "It's just - strange, you know? Ever since I can remember, it's always been the two of us, and now there's just me. I keep catching myself starting to say something to Fred, and then - then he's not there."_

_My eyes filled with tears. "Oh, George," I said again._

_"Don't," George said, pointing a warning finger at me. "Don't cry, Hermione. Fred wouldn't have liked it." He turned and started toward the house. "I'd better go make an appearance inside," he said. "Muriel's probably got Mum thinking I've killed myself in the broom shed by now."_

_"George?" Ron said tentatively. "You've still got four other brothers, you know. I know it's not the same, but - "_

_George looked at the ground. "Thanks, Ron," he said quietly, and hurried away._

That was the last time I saw him, until today.

"What're you thinking about?" Ron asks.

"Conjuring Charms," I say briskly. "Now that you've got a proper wand, there's no reason you shouldn't be able to do them. We can practice when we get back."

**Harry**

Ron and Neville are both in our room when I get back.

"Been shopping?" I ask, noticing the packages on the bed.

Ron nods, waving his new wand at me. "Hermione picked this shirt out for me," he says, admiring himself in the mirror. "She says the color really brings out my eyes." He leans closer, blinking at himself in the glass.

I manage not to laugh by reminding myself sternly that Ron's my best mate and this is probably the first time he's ever owned something that wasn't a hand-me-down.

"Yeah, it's great," I manage, my voice only slightly choked. I don't dare look at Neville. "I guess I ought to do some shopping myself. Think it'd be tempting fate to buy Auror's robes?"

"Yes," Ron says firmly. "I'm not buying Auror _anything_ until I know for sure I'm in." He turns - finally - from the mirror and gives me a worried look. "I still haven't managed to Conjure anything," he says. "And I can't do Legilimency and Occlumency at all. Even Hermione can't do those yet."

"Well, you've got a new wand now," I say, but I'm worried myself. I keep thinking about how easy it was for Snape to break into my mind during our so-called Occlumency lessons.

Neville clears his throat. "If you don't mind me saying so, I think you're going about this all wrong," he says.

Ron and I both stare at him. "Er, what?" Ron says.

"Teaching yourselves, I mean," Neville explains. "You ought to ask someone who's a proper Auror to help you. They already know what's on the exam."

"Yeah, well, that's a great idea, Neville," Ron says. "Except the only Auror we really know is Kingsley and he's sort of busy being Minister of Magic these days."

Neville looks surprised. "I thought you knew a lot of them," he says. "I mean, I know some of them are dead - " he blushes furiously - "but didn't they all used to come to Sirius Black's house when you lot were staying there? And what about the ones that came and got your aunt and uncle, Harry?"

"Dedalus Diggle," I say. "And Hestia."

"There you are," Neville says, pleased. "Ask one of them."

"I don't know," I say uncertainly. "They're probably really busy. Kingsley told us the Auror Department was pretty short-staffed."

Neville shrugs. "It wouldn't hurt to ask, would it?" he says. "Well, I'd better go. Professor Sprout and I have some Mandrakes to re-pot."

"What do you think?" I say to Ron, once Neville's left.

"It's up to you, Harry," Ron says. "But I don't think old Dedalus would mind. Dad says he's pretty much retired now, anyway." He starts for the door. "Hermione and I are going to work on Conjuring Charms some more before dinner," he says. "Want to come? I wouldn't mind having someone else there who can't do them."

"Sorry," I say, grinning at him. "But I can." I conjure a goblet in midair to prove it.

Ron groans and opens the door. "Write to Dedalus," he says over his shoulder. "I can use all the help I can get."

He's right, I decide. I'll write to Dedalus. I'll make sure and tell him not to feel obligated, if he's too busy. But I'm pretty sure he won't mind.

I've just reached for parchment when an owl taps on the window. Not again - I thought Rita was finally giving up. Well, maybe it's from Kingsley.

It's not from either of them - at least, I don't recognize the writing. I tear open the envelope and begin to read.

_My dear Harry,  
>I hope that this letter finds you well. My dear boy, such an achievement - words alone cannot express the gratitude that we all feel toward you! But I digress. I should like to come and speak to you regarding a matter of some importance. If tomorrow morning would be convenient, I could meet you at the Hog's Head (an unattractive setting, but we shall be sure of privacy there!) at ten o'clock.<br>I shall await your answer by return owl.  
>Most cordially yours,<br>Dedalus Diggle_

I wonder to myself if Dedalus Diggle ever studied Divination as I quickly scribble a response and hand it to the waiting owl. Well, his timing couldn't be better. But I can't help wondering if the "matter of some importance" has anything to do with the Dursleys.

**Ron**

"Try one more time," Hermione says encouragingly. "You have to really _want_ it."

I raise my wand again. "And it can't be food," Hermione reminds me. "It's one of the five exceptions to - "

"I _know_," I say quickly, even though I don't know what the other four are. I decide to try a goblet - it can't be that hard if Harry managed it. I close my eyes, concentrating on really, really wanting a goblet…

Hermione and I both stare disbelievingly at the goblet that appears in midair. "It's not very clean," I say, grabbing it. "But at least it's here."

"I knew you could do it," Hermione says, beaming at me. "Now that you've mastered that, what about trying Occlumency and Legilimency?"

"What about going down to the pub for a drink?" I say hastily. "Hagrid'll be there - you can tell him all about your new job. He'll be thrilled."

"I haven't got that job yet," Hermione reminds me, but she knows as well as I do that they'd be lucky to have her. "Let's just try a bit of Legilimency and Occlumency before we go, all right?"

I know when to give up. "All right," I say, sinking down on the sofa. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can go to the pub. "Which do you want to try?"

"I'll do the Occlumency bit," Hermione decides, sitting down next to me. "All right, see if you can understand what I'm thinking."

I don't always understand what she's thinking even when she tells me in plain English. I haven't got a prayer of doing this. "Say the charm," Hermione prompts.

_"Legilimens,"_ I say obediently, but it doesn't help. "Er, you're thinking that I look so irresistible in my new shirt that you can't keep your hands off me?" I suggest. Worth a try, isn't it?

"I wasn't thinking that _at all_," Hermione says sternly, but her lips twitch.

"Go on, Hermione," I say teasingly. "You know you want to kiss me."

She sighs and puts her arms around my neck. "We're going to work on this tomorrow," she says warningly.

**The Watcher**

September 1st is approaching. According to young Malfoy, the work at Hogwarts is nearly finished.

"Why are you all still hanging about, then?" I ask. I'm impatient to get on with things.

Malfoy shrugs. "They're having _fun_," he says, a trace of bitterness in his voice. "And Potter and Weasley are busy practicing for their Auror tests. I'll bet Weasley fails."

"They've all left the grounds in the last two days," I say sharply. "Where were you, Draco?"

Malfoy gapes at me. "They have?" he says stupidly. "Well, how was I supposed to know? I've been stuck helping that Squib janitor for weeks now."

"It's your business to know," I say. "Don't let it happen again, Draco."

"I expect we'll all be leaving any day now," Malfoy says hopefully. "I've written Father to ask about getting a job at the Ministry."

I can predict the outcome of that one. Lucius won't like the idea of anyone in his family actually working for a living. "You don't need your father's permission, Draco," I say softly. "You're of age, after all."

"Well, you don't expect me to live on my _salary_, do you?" Malfoy says, looking outraged. "Look, let me tell Father what's going on. I know he'd be glad to hear you were still alive - "

Somehow I doubt that. "You will tell no one," I say coldly, raising my wand threateningly.

Malfoy backs down. "It was just a thought," he says sulkily.

"Tell your father that you think it would reflect well on the family if you appeared to be willing to do your part at the Ministry," I say. "Everyone working together to restore the Wizarding world; that sort of thing. Lucius is a sensible man - he understands how these things work."

Malfoy nods. "I'll send him another owl tonight," he says.

I permit myself a sigh once he's gone. If things had worked out differently, he might have been my son. Certainly Narcissa as a wife would have been far preferable to the one who was chosen for me.

It was supposed to be Andromeda. It was all arranged by our parents - we'd known about it since we were children. Andromeda never seemed to mind particularly, and neither did I. We were both from pureblood families; families that understood what was _really_ important. It wasn't till our seventh year at school that she started to change. I heard Narcissa berating her for dating a Mudblood, but Andromeda only laughed. I'm afraid I didn't take it seriously - after all, I'd had several other girlfriends myself. I knew I was going to marry Andromeda, of course, but I certainly wasn't foolish enough to fancy myself in love with her.

It was a shock to all of us when she eloped with the Mudblood. "The Blacks have disowned her, of course," Father told me, pacing up and down in his study. "But that doesn't help us, does it? We had their word - and there's a sizable amount of gold that would have come with her as a dowry!"

He stopped pacing suddenly and looked at me. "You'll have to have the other one," he said. "Bellatrix."

Even then, I was slightly afraid of Bellatrix. She was a Death Eater, of course - we all were - but only Bellatrix seemed to see it as something almost mystical, rather than as a sensible precaution. "I don't want to marry Bella," I say. "Why can't I take Cissy?"

"Because Narcissa is engaged to Lucius Malfoy," Father said. "And if you think the Blacks are going to see that break up, you can think again! The Malfoys could buy and sell the lot of us." He clapped me on the shoulder. "It won't be that bad," he said bracingly. "Get an heir or two, and you can take a mistress on the side. And after all, she's a pretty girl - and her bloodline is impeccable."

"All right," I said heavily. I thought Father was right. A baby might even settle Bella down.

"You're a good son, Rodolphus," Father said, beaming at me. "I'll have the Blacks round for a drink and we'll get this all fixed up in no time. What do you say to a fall wedding?"

I _was_ a good son. I never refused one of my father's requests, but I would have refused this one had I known that my future wife was obsessed with the Dark Lord to the point of madness. By the time I discovered the truth for myself, it was too late. We were already married, and even if Bella would have let me go, people of our backgrounds don't divorce. It simply isn't done.

So I did the sensible thing. I made the best of it. Together, Bella and I devoted ourselves to the Dark Lord's work. He promised me we would be well-rewarded. And when I heard that Bellatrix was dead, I felt sure that my reward had come at last. And it _will_ come, make no mistake about that. Once a few little matters have been disposed of, I can take my rightful place in the world. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Harry**

Dedalus Diggle, wrapped in a faded velvet cloak, is already waiting for me in the Hog's Head.

"Oh, it's you," Aberforth grunts when I walk in, but he's pleased to see me - I think. "Suppose you want a drink?"

I can't help remembering Professor Flitwick's warning about drinking out of the glasses in here. "I'll have a butterbeer," I compromise.

I take the bottle Ab gives me over to Dedalus. "Harry, my dear boy!" he says, beaming at me. "Kingsley tells me you are to be one of us."

"Ron and I both are," I say, taking the chair he offers. "If we can pass the exam."

"You won't have any trouble with it," Dedalus says airily. I wish I was as sure of that as everyone else seems to be. "But I didn't ask you here to talk about the Aurors, fascinating as the subject may be!"

"You said you had something to tell me," I say.

"Ah, yes," Dedalus says, reaching into the pocket of his cloak and pulling out a small package. "As you know, Hestia and I were entrusted with the care of your Muggle relatives during the - the - recent events."

"Yeah," I say. "Sorry about that. Hope they weren't too awful."

"Oh, we got on famously," Dedalus assures me. "After just a few small misunderstandings in the beginning, that is. But that's neither here nor there! Your aunt asked me to give you this, Harry."

He pushes the package toward me. I end up having to use my wand to slice through about a mile's worth of packing tape and several yards of brown paper. Inside there's a faded velvet box - and inside the box…

"It's a ring," I say, lifting it out carefully. "A woman's ring." I wonder who it belonged to - if it could possibly have been…

"There's a note," Dedalus says, nodding at a small scrap of paper that I hadn't noticed till now.

_"This was your mother's ring,"_ the note says in Aunt Petunia's handwriting. That's all - nothing else. I wonder who gave it to my mother, and how Aunt Petunia came to have it. I turn the ring in my hand, looking at it. "What sort of stone is this?" I ask Dedalus. "It's red, but it's awfully dark to be a ruby."

Dedalus peers over the top of his glasses. "That, my dear boy, is a garnet," he says. "The January birthstone, as a matter of fact - I know because my own birthday is in January!" He beams at me again.

And so was my mum's. I try putting the ring on my pinky finger, but I can't get it past the knuckle. She must have had small hands - like Ginny's.

"Goodness me, I nearly forgot!" Dedalus says, reaching into his pocket again. "Your cousin had a message for you, too." He hands me an envelope.

I don't know if I'm more surprised to find out that Dudley knows how to write, or that he wanted to communicate with me. "Thanks," I say, opening the envelope. The letter inside is brief:

_Dere Harry,  
>What you did was realy brav.<br>Your cosin Dudley_

Seems I gave Dudley a little too much credit when I assumed he knew how to write. Still, I can't help feeling a bit touched. At least Dudley, in his own way, seems to understand what I went through.

"Nothing from Uncle Vernon?" I ask.

Dedalus looks embarrassed at first, then laughs when he realizes I'm joking. "I think, my dear boy," he says delicately, "that your uncle wanted nothing so much as to put the entire experience behind him."

"I'll bet he did," I say, grinning at him. I can't help feeling hugely relieved. I knew this was going to be about the Dursleys, but I didn't expect to get off this easily. I was afraid they were going to want to see me so they could yell at me for inconveniencing them for the past year.

Dedalus smiles back and gestures to Aberforth for another drink. "So you're going to be an Auror," he says happily.

Now's my chance. "Dedalus, are you possibly free for the next couple of hours?" I ask. "Because if you are, my friend Ron and I could really use your help with something."

**Ron**

"Aren't you almost done?" I ask Hermione. She's been fitting the same library book back together for what feels like about an hour.

Hermione eyes me. "Shouldn't you be helping somewhere?" she asks.

Probably, but there's not all that much left to do. "Suppose Dedalus comes back with Harry?" I argue. "It might be the only chance we have to learn Legilimency and Occlumency."

"He's been gone for over an hour," Hermione says, glancing at her watch. "I hope everything's all right."

I hope so, too. "What if Dedalus can't help us?" I say. "What are we going to do?"

Hermione puts down the pieces of library book and looks at me. "You could ask one of the teachers," she says, but she doesn't sound too sure of the idea. "Maybe Professor McGonagall - "

"I wouldn't ask McGonagall _anything_ if I were you," Michael Corner says, passing us with an armload of repaired books. "She's not in the best mood - seems Dennis Creevey's parents returned his Hogwarts letter with a note asking her not to communicate with him in any way in the future."

Hermione and I look at each other. "I was afraid that was going to happen," Hermione says. "Do you think we should have warned her?"

"No," I say. "Dennis is a wizard. He's got the right to know people here haven't forgotten about him."

Michael's staring at us. "Do you know something about this?" he asks.

"You weren't at Colin's funeral, were you?" Hermione says to him.

"No," Michael says uncomfortably. "I mean, I didn't really know him - and there were a lot of funerals all happening at the same time - "

"I didn't mean that," Hermione says quickly. "It's just that if you had been there, you might not have been surprised to hear Dennis isn't coming back."

Michael sits down across from us. "What happened?" he asks.

Hermione starts to tell him, but after a minute I stop listening. I don't like thinking about what happened. It was the only time anyone ever made me feel bad about being a wizard.

_Colin Creevey's funeral was, in its own way, even worse than my brother's. At least at Fred's, there was some sense that he died for a cause. The Creeveys made it seem like Colin died in a road accident or something._

_"Well, they couldn't exactly_ say," _Hermione whispered when I pointed this out to her. "Practically everyone here is a Muggle."_

_I looked around. I didn't recognize anybody except a couple of kids from Colin's class at school, sitting in the row behind us. Dennis had started over to us when we came in, but a woman - Mrs. Creevey, I guess - grabbed his arm and made him come sit up front with the family._

_The service seemed like it went on forever. I remember the bloke who seemed to be running the whole thing asked if anyone had anything they wanted to say about Colin. Harry threw me an uncertain look, like he thought maybe he ought to, but I wasn't sure how it'd go over with this crowd. "Better not," I whispered, and he nodded, looking relieved._

_Anyway, Dennis was going up there. Poor kid - he was never what you'd call tall to begin with, and he looked even smaller, wearing a Muggle dress suit that was miles too big for him._

_"My parents want you all to think Colin's death was an accident," he said, looking scared but determined. "That's not true."_

_There was a collective gasp from everyone in the church. Mrs. Creevey covered her face with her hands. "Dennis," Mr. Creevey said warningly, but Dennis ignored him._

_"Colin was a hero," he said firmly. "And I'm proud of him. We should all be proud of him, even though we'll miss him. And - "_

_"We'll all miss Colin," Mr. Creevey said hastily, jumping up and putting a firm arm around Dennis. He nodded at the organist, and she started playing really loudly. After a minute Mrs. Creevey got up and left. The rest of the Muggles started to follow._

_"Is it over?" I asked uncertainly. It seemed a bit on the abrupt side to me, but I'd never been to a Muggle funeral before._

_Hermione shook her head. "Now we go to the churchyard," she said. "And after that people usually go back to the family's home for a bit - but I'm not sure…"_

_Not sure if we'd be welcome, she meant. Neither was I. I was about to say maybe we ought to skip the churchyard bit as well, but it was too late. Dennis was coming over._

_"Thanks for coming," he said, shaking hands with all of us. "Colin would've liked it - I mean - "_

_"We know what you mean," Ginny assured him._

_"Yeah, well, thanks," Dennis said awkwardly. "Look, the thing is - well, maybe you'd better not come back to the house afterwards. I'd like to see you - it's just my parents - well - "_

_"They don't understand," Hermione said, and Dennis nodded gratefully._

_"They said that if Colin wasn't a wizard, he'd still be alive," he said quietly. "And I couldn't say anything, because it's_ true,_ isn't it? But all the same, I hate the way they're trying to cover it up."_

_"It won't be covered up in our world," Harry said. "Colin won't be forgotten."_

_"Thanks," Dennis said. "Wish I was going back there with you."_

_The four of us looked at each other. Hermione was the only one that didn't seem surprised. "Your parents don't want you to go back to Hogwarts, do they?" she asked._

_Dennis looked at us miserably. "They said they're not losing the only son they have left to a - well, I won't tell you what they called it," he said. "They want me to forget about being a wizard."_

_"Give them a bit of time," Ginny said consolingly. "They might change their minds."_

_"I doubt it," Dennis said. "They - "_

_Ginny gasped, looking at something behind us. I turned just in time to see Mrs. Creevey bearing down on us. Her face was tearstained, but she wasn't crying anymore. She was glaring at all of us like she hated us. "How dare you come here?" she hissed. "Murderers!"_

_Mr. Creevey came puffing up behind her. "Myra," he said gently, taking her arm. "Not here." Then he looked at the rest of us, and his voice was anything but gentle. "Just go," he said. "All of you." He turned his back on his, leading his wife toward the churchyard. Dennis threw us an apologetic look and followed them._

_Hermione's face was white. "Come on," I said, taking her hand. "I think we'd better get out of here." We started around the other side of the church - we couldn't Disapparate anywhere near that lot, obviously. The kids from Colin's class followed us, looking scared._

_"How can they do that?" Ginny demanded, the second we were around the corner. "Dennis is a wizard. He can't just_ stop_."_

_Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. "Muggles don't always get it," Harry said, and I could tell he was thinking about the ones he used to live with. "Dennis might just have to hold off till he's of age."_

_Ginny looked unconvinced. "It's all wrong," she said unhappily, and Harry put his arm around her._

_"I know," he said. "Well, we might as well go home. No point in making things worse for Dennis by staying here."_

Hermione's finished with her story. "But Dennis is a wizard," Michael says, just like Ginny did.

Hermione sighs. "It's impossible to explain it to anyone who hasn't lived in the Muggle world," she says. "They don't understand. They _can't_ understand. All they know is that their son is dead."

Michael shakes his head. "They won't be able to hang on to him forever," he says. "If he's a wizard, he belongs in our world. Wait and see - Dennis will be back." He gets to his feet, reaching for the stack of books he'd been carrying. "This is the last of them," he says to Hermione. "All except for that lot that was so bad we saved it for the end."

"Good," Hermione says. "Are you going to start them today?

"I think they might be a write-off," Michael says. "I'll have a go tomorrow, but I really ought to get some more studying done."

"I'll look at them," Hermione says immediately.

"Thanks, Hermione," Michael says, taking off before she can change her mind.

"He's taking advantage of you," I say indignantly. "You shouldn't have to tackle that lot by yourself."

"I don't mind," Hermione says. "I seem to be one of the only ones who hasn't got an exam to study for."

"You've been spending too much time helping me," I say, feeling guilty. "Look, you can skip the Legilimency and Occlumency lessons if you like. If Dedalus can teach us, I reckon I can manage on my own."

"Oh, no," Hermione says firmly. "If you're going to learn Legilimency, then I'm definitely learning Occlumency."

"But I'm your boyfriend," I say, surprised. "You haven't got to hide anything from me."

I didn't mean for it to be funny, but Hermione laughs for about five minutes.

**Hermione**

Much to Ron and Harry's relief, Dedalus assured them that they weren't actually required to master Legilimency in order to become an Auror.

"Hardly anyone can really do it," he confides, leaning forward. "_I_ certainly can't. No, all you really need to know is the theory."

"That's a relief," Ron says. "Because when even _Hermione_ couldn't do it - "

"Shut up," I whisper, elbowing him.

"Now you'll need to know Occlumency," Dedalus continues. "Because Gawain Robards will test you himself, and he _has_ mastered Legilimency." He beams at us. "But of course you can do Occlumency already."

Harry and Ron exchange panicked looks. "I sort of can," Harry says dubiously. "I think."

"Well, I can't," Ron says despairingly.

"It's quite simple," Dedalus says. "The charm's _Occlumens_. Just practice a bit and you'll be fine."

"How can they practice if no one knows Legilimency?" I point out. "There's no way to tell if they're doing it properly or not."

"Oh," Dedalus says, looking dashed. He brightens suddenly. "Aberforth can do it," he says. "Can't you, Ab?"

"Eh?" Aberforth grunts. "What do you want?"

"Legilimency," Dedalus says patiently. "You know how, don't you?"

"So what if I do?" Aberforth says crossly. "What good's it ever done me, beyond knowing who was going to try to skip out of here without paying for his drink first?"

"It'd do us some good now," Harry says. "If you wouldn't mind."

Aberforth frowns at all of us, and I'm afraid he's going to refuse. "Please, Mr. Dumbledore," I say.

Aberforth looks at me and sighs. "Never could refuse a lady," he says gruffly. "But none of this Mr. Dumbledore stuff, mind. If I help you, you've got to call me Ab."

"All right," I say, smiling at him. "Thank you - Ab."

Ab gives me a grudging smile in return and turns to Ron. "We'll start with you, since Potter's had some experience already," he says. "Here, son, you think of something you don't want your girlfriend to find out about." He waits a moment. "Got it?"

"Yeah," Ron says, carefully not looking at me. It certainly didn't take him long to come up with something, did it?

"Now say the charm, and concentrate with everything you've got on blocking me out of your mind," Ab says. _"Legilimens!"_

I wonder just how hard it is to learn Legilimency.

**Harry**

"Come for a walk," I say to Ginny after dinner the next evening.

She slips her hand into mine willingly. "Harry, I'm going to be the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain next term!" she says. Her face is glowing. "Professor McGonagall just told me."

"Well done," I say, giving her a quick kiss. "In that case, let's walk down to the Quidditch field and you can plan your strategy for the first game."

It's not raining this time, so we can sit in the stands instead of the changing rooms. "I know your birthday's not till tomorrow," I begin, turning to face her. "But I wanted to give you your present early."

Ginny smiles at me. "Is it the same present I gave you for your seventeenth?" she asks. "Because if it is, I think we'd better make sure my brother's not around to spoil it this time."

"It's not," I say, grinning back. "I mean - well, it is, obviously, but I've got something else for you too. Here." I hand her the velvet box and watch while she opens it.

Ginny catches her breath. "Harry, it's beautiful," she whispers. "It's a garnet, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I say. "It was my mum's - her birthstone."

"Oh, Harry," Ginny says. "Are you sure you want to give it to me? I know you haven't anything else of hers."

"I want you to have it," I say. "It ought to be worn, not left in a box. And you're the only girl I'll ever want to wear it."

"Put it on me," Ginny says softly. She hold out her hand - her right hand - and I carefully slip the ring onto her third finger. It's a perfect fit.

Ginny leans closer, and I kiss her. For a long time we just sit huddled together in the stands, not talking.

Finally Ginny shifts slightly so she can look at me. "Harry, when you say I'm the only girl - " she starts and then hesitates.

"I meant it," I say instantly. "I don't mean to rush you, Ginny. I know you've got a lot of things you want to do first - so do I. This ring doesn't commit you to anything."

"But I want us to be committed to each other," Ginny protests. "I love you, Harry."

I can't speak for a minute. "I love you, too," I say, taking her face gently in my hands.

It's a while before either of us says anything again. "You've go to promise me something, though," Ginny whispers at last.

"Anything," I say recklessly, my face against her hair.

"Whatever happens, you can't shut me out this time," Ginny says, and I pull back, startled.

"I couldn't tell you," I protest. "You said you understood."

"I did," Ginny says. "But that was before. Now I've got a right to know. Okay?"

"Okay," I say meekly. "Ginny? If it makes you feel any better, it was absolute hell being without you last year."

"Strangely enough, it does make me feel better," Ginny admits, leaning her head against my shoulder.

I think about telling her how I used to watch her dot on the Marauder's Map, but decide it makes me sound a bit pathetic. "I love you," I say instead. "Happy birthday, Ginny."

**Ron**

I'm on my way up to the seventh floor when I see him. He's hanging back, dodging around corners and behind statues, but I spent nearly all of last year making sure someone wasn't following me and I'm pretty good at noticing that sort of thing by now.

I walk a little faster so I can get around the next corner ahead of him; then slip behind a tapestry to wait. I've got a few things to say to Draco Malfoy, and since Hermione's not around, this seems to be an excellent time to say them.

Malfoy slows down as he comes around the corner, peering about suspiciously. I wait till he's right in front of me before making my move. "Looking for someone, Malfoy?" I say, stepping suddenly into his path.

Malfoy's startled, but he manages to cover it. "I wasn't looking for _you_," he says, sneering. "Out of my way, Weasley."

"The hell you weren't," I say, not moving. "You've been following me."

"Like I'd bother to follow you," Malfoy says. "Why don't you go study for your Auror's exam or something? Not that you've got any chance of passing without the Mudblood letting you copy her paper."

That does it. Good thing I've had so much practice with Stunning Spells lately. Malfoy doesn't even see it coming.

I wait for it to wear off - I'm not done with him yet. After a minute, Malfoy gets slowly to his feet, looking at me warily.

"I already warned you not to call my girlfriend a Mudblood," I say, getting right in his face. "Do it again and you'll get worse next time."

Malfoy backs up a step. "You're not capable of doing anything worse," he says dismissively, but his face is paler than usual.

"Sure about that, are you?" I say.

Malfoy's expression changes. "Filch said you were the one who took down Greyback," he half-whispers. "Is it true?"

"Maybe," I say, a little warily. I wonder how Filch knows about that. I don't even remember him being there.

Malfoy gives me a funny look. "I didn't know that," he says, almost respectfully.

"Not likely I'd tell a Death Eater what I did to one of his mates, is it?" I say.

Malfoy flinches. "He was no mate of mine," he says harshly. "I'm glad you got him. I - " he stops speaking abruptly.

"Greyback tried to kill my girlfriend," I say. "You ought to remember that, Malfoy. It happened in your drawing room."

Malfoy doesn't seem to have an answer for that. He just stares at me.

It seems like a good note to leave it on. For once I don't have any hesitation in turning my back on Malfoy. He's not going to do anything to me.

**Draco**

"Why are you being so insistent about this?" Mother says in a low voice. "Your father's furious - he says he'll cut you off without a Knut if you keep this up." She looks around the room nervously, but no one can hear us. Everyone in the Three Broomsticks is giving us a wide berth. Although it certainly hasn't stopped most of them from shooting us filthy looks, has it? I've gotten used to it after these past weeks at Hogwarts, but I can tell it makes Mother uncomfortable.

"We could go somewhere else," I offer, but there's really nowhere else for us to go. They hate us everywhere in Hogsmeade.

"Those people aren't important," Mother says, her eyes intent on my face. "Draco, you must listen to me. Your father's agreed that you can take a Ministry position - if you must - but it will have to be in a department of his choosing. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is absolutely out of the question."

That's the last thing I expected her to say. I mean, I know it's not exactly prestigious, working with vermin like house-elves and werewolves, but surely I won't actually have to speak to any of them? "Why?" I say blankly.

"Because Amos Diggory is now the head of that department," Mother says. "I don't believe there's anything that anyone can say or do that will get you in there."

Diggory? Well, neither do I, in that case. "What about Magical Games and Sports, then?" I say. That's what I wanted to do, anyway. It was Rodolphus that wanted me to do Magical Creatures, but I expect I can ruin Granger's career just as easily from some other department.

Mother shakes her head. "Not that one, either," she says. "Now we do have a friend or two left in Magical Transportation…"

"That's boring," I protest, but I can tell by her face that's it's no good. It's going to be Magical Transportation or nothing.

"Fine," I say coldly. "Tell Father to arrange it, then. I can start any time - I've had quite enough of this place to last me."

"I'm glad you've decided to be sensible," Mother says, looking relieved. She's not a demonstrative woman, but she leans forward and puts her hand on my arm. "I'll ask your father if you can come home now," she whispers. "Surely you've been here long enough to make it look good."

Mother Disapparates as soon as we get outside, but I decide to walk back to the school. I may as well break the news to Rodolphus now and get it over with. I can't think of him as "Uncle Rodolphus" even though that's what he is. I barely know the man - he was in Azkaban for most of my life. I've probably spent more time talking to him in the last few weeks than I did for all the rest of my life put together. And sometimes I wish I'd never had to talk to him at all.

Okay, here's the thing. I truly believe that the Wizarding race - the pureblood Wizarding race - is superior to Muggles. I think Mudbloods are an abomination that should never have been allowed. I would have run away from school the first night if I hadn't been put into Slytherin House. But I don't want to go back to the way things were last year.

Oh, I was flattered at first, when he sent for me. The Dark Lord said I was his youngest Death Eater. He said I was the first underage wizard to ever take the Dark Mark. And then he told me what he wanted me to do.

I tried; I really did. But the truth is - and don't ever breathe a word of this to anyone - I didn't really want Dumbledore to die. I mean, I know he was in the Dark Lord's way, but he wasn't as dangerous as all that, was he? He'd been around for ages, after all, and the Death Eaters just kept getting stronger. And while I was never one of Dumbledore's pets - not like Potter - he never did anything bad to me, either. I couldn't make myself hate him.

Now if it had been Potter… "Why can't I kill Potter instead?" I'd said to Mother once we got home. "It'd be much easier - and if you ask me, he's the one we ought to be worried about."

Mother had shaken her head, her eyes wide with fright. "He wants to kill Potter himself," she whispered. "Swear you won't do it, Draco."

"Fine," I said, because I was already thinking that Dumbledore's age might make him the easier target. He was over a hundred, after all. Maybe I could just let nature take its course and I wouldn't have to do anything. When we got back to school and I saw his hand, I was sure I was right. He was already starting to decay.

Only he wouldn't die. Until… he did. And after that things just kept getting worse. We were in disgrace, all of us, and Father kept making me feel like it was all my fault even though he was the one that messed up everything at the Ministry the year before. Aunt Bellatrix came to live with us - for company, she said, but it was really to keep watch on us.

And then one night they brought Potter there. I thought it was going to be over - at last - but he got away. Potter always gets away. And he won, in the end.

I almost don't care, anymore. I just want things to go back to normal. Only they never will - and as long as my Uncle Rodolphus is around, this is never going to be over. I almost want to tell him to just give it up - I mean, we lost. The Dark Lord's dead. I think Father's right - we ought to just lie low for a bit. We've still got plenty of money, and that's the most important thing.

The thing is, though, I can imagine myself saying that to Rodolphus, but when I'm face to face with him, I don't dare to say anything. I don't even dare to tell Mother and Father what's going on. I'll just have to play along till I can figure out how to get away from him. Maybe I could convince Father to take all of us abroad for a bit. I wish there was someone I could trust, but there's no one left. Anyone who's not dead has gone into hiding.

You know what's really ironic? The one person who could probably help me is the person I hate more than anyone else in the world - Harry Potter.

**Hermione**

I creep in as quietly as possible, trying not to wake Ginny. Luckily I've become rather good at undressing in the dark.

"And what time do you call this, Miss?" Ginny says, in such a perfect imitation of her mother that I jump guiltily.

"Sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's a wonder you and Ron can stay awake at all in the daytime, with as little sleep as you've been getting lately," Ginny says teasingly.

"Mm," I say noncommittally, climbing into bed. "Well, good night!"

"Hermione," Ginny says. "_Are_ you?"

"Am I what?" I say calmly, grateful for the darkness.

"You know what I mean," Ginny says. "Are you?"

"Well - yes," I admit.

"I knew it!" Ginny says delightedly. "Only I wish it wasn't with Ron."

"Excuse me?" I say indignantly, sitting up in bed.

"Oh, you know what I mean," Ginny says. "It's just that I'm dying to ask you about it, but it's too weird, seeing as he's my brother."

Well, thank goodness for that. "So you aren't - with Harry?" I ask. Normally I'd mind my own business, but seeing as she's just asked me, I feel entitled.

"Not yet," Ginny says. "We've come awfully close, mind, but I didn't exactly get to spend a lot of time with him last year. Not like you and Ron, sharing a tent."

"We weren't doing it _then_!" I protest.

Ginny giggles. "It would have been a bit hard on poor Harry if you had been," she says. "How long, then?"

"Not very long," I say evasively. I don't want to tell her it was the night after the battle, because it sounds awfully soon, doesn't it? Only it wasn't like that at all - not really.

_Ron was awfully sweet to me after my nightmare. He fussed over me, making me sit at the table while he brought me a plate and poured me a glass of wine._

_"What?" he said, looking up from his own plate to find me staring at him._

_"I never knew you could be like this," I said wonderingly. "You're being so - so - considerate."_

_"Well, mind you don't let on to anyone," Ron said. "It'd ruin my reputation if George and Fred-" He stopped, stricken. "Only he won't," he whispered. "Fred's never going to give me a hard time again, is he?"_

_"Come here," I said, reaching him just in time. I wrapped both arms round him, drawing his head onto my shoulder._

_"Don't," I whispered, stroking his hair. "I love you so much - don't." Only I was crying myself - I couldn't help it. I just kept thinking of how happy Remus was the night he came to tell us his son had been born - and the bewildered look on George's face as he stood looking down at his brother's dead body._

_And we never meant for it to happen. We were just trying to comfort each other, and then it turned into something else._

_"Are you sure?" Ron had whispered, when even I realized it was nearly too late to turn back._

_"I'm sure," I'd said steadily. And I was sure. I've never regretted it. We love each other - and we almost lost each other. _

But all the same, it's not something I'm prepared to share with anyone else, not even Ginny. Maybe she realizes that, because she doesn't ask me any more questions, and after awhile, I can tell by her breathing that she's gone back to sleep.

**Ron**

We're just finishing breakfast when an owl drops a letter in front of Hermione and flies off without waiting for an answer.

Hermione just stares at the letter without picking it up. I lean over her to see. "It's got the Ministry seal on it," I say. "I'll bet it's about your interview."

She's still not moving. "Want me to read it to you?" I offer.

That gets through to her. "No, I'll do it," she says, grabbing the letter and breaking the seal open. She scans it quickly and then hands it to me.

"What did I tell you?" I say, putting my arm around her. "They want you to come in for an interview a week from today."

"Did you see who it's from?" Hermione asks. "Amos Diggory."

I look again. She's right. "Well, so what?" I say. "Amos Diggory hasn't got anything against you." I almost add "Harry's the one he hates", but I manage to stop myself in time. Harry and Ginny are just a few feet away from us.

Hermione looks only half-convinced. "Diggory's kind of a git, but he was on the right side," I tell her. "He'll be fair. Anyway, who wouldn't want you to work for them? You're brilliant."

"Thanks," Hermione says, picking up the letter again. "Ron, it's in a week!"

"Yeah," I say patiently. "That's plenty of time, isn't it?" I don't see what she's worried about. She already bought her new robes - and it's not like you can study for an interview.

Only it appears that you can. Or, at least you can if you're Hermione. "I've got to go to the library," she says, pushing her plate away. "Or - no, the library's no good. I'll have to go to a bookshop."

I'm not following. "Why?" I ask.

"So I can read up on the subject beforehand, of course," Hermione says. "I don't know anywhere near enough about the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to get through an interview."

"They won't expect you to be an expert before you even start," I point out, but I might as well be talking to myself.

"And we're still here," Hermione says, ignoring me. "Suppose they want me to start right away? We haven't anywhere to live yet."

Well, she's got a point there, doesn't she? "Today's Wednesday," I say. "If enough people show up this weekend, there's no reason we couldn't wrap things up here by Sunday. Then we can move to Grimmauld Place on Monday. That gives you two whole days to get ready."

"I don't know," Hermione says. "I suppose it might work - if - "

"It'll work out just fine," I say, cutting her off before she can think of any more objections. "Relax, Hermione!"

**Harry**

Even though I knew our time here had to end soon, Ron's request still comes as a shock. "Yeah, I guess we could move on Monday," I say slowly. "I'm not sure if the house is completely ready yet, but - "

"It doesn't have to be perfect," Ron says. "Long as we've got someplace to sleep and enough to eat, I don't care about the rest of it. Anyway, I reckon you and I could work on it, couldn't we? All those Dark Magical objects ought to be good practice for our Auror test."

"Most of that stuff's gone - I hope," I say. "All right, let's do it Monday. I'll have a word with Kreacher and let him know we're coming."

"We'd have to get out of here pretty soon, anyway," Ron points out. "The new term's staring in a couple of weeks."

"Yeah, I know," I say. I hate giving up these last weeks with Ginny. But Ron's right - everyone else is already making plans to go. Dean has a job doing illustrations for a magazine - he wouldn't tell us which one, but Luna said it was _Witch Weekly_. And Seamus has some sort of plan to open a nightclub in Diagon Alley with his cousin Fergus. And Ginny… well, she'll be coming back here for her seventh year. And I won't get to see her again till the Christmas holidays.

"Sure you will," Ron says, grinning at me. "There's bound to be a Hogsmeade weekend in October. You can meet her in the Three Broomsticks, can't you?"

I stare at him. "Don't tell me you've learned Legilimency?" I say.

Ron laughs. "No, it was your expression," he says. "You always get this sort of sappy look on your face when you're thinking about - hey!" He narrowly dodges the jinx I throw at him.

"I think we can finish things here pretty easily, don't you?" I say, firmly changing the subject. "Oliver Wood's supposed to show up this afternoon - that'll be one more person."

"Good," Ron says. "How come Oliver gets so much time off, anyway? Maybe we ought to think about being Quidditch players instead of Aurors."

I ask Oliver the same question myself later that afternoon. We're down at the Quidditch field, watching as Ginny puts a few would-be Quidditch players through some preliminary testing.

"They always give us a few days of holiday during the World Cup," Oliver explains. "They reckon no one's paying much attention to the local teams while that's going on. Anyway, a lot of the owners and managers have got tickets to the game."

I hadn't even realized the World Cup was still taking place this year. "I saw Viktor Krum last summer," I say, remembering. "Do you know if he's still playing for Bulgaria?"

Oliver doesn't answer. It's a minute before I realize he's not listening to me. He's watching Ginny as she scores easily, once again.

"Good, isn't she?" I say proudly. "She's going to be Gryffindor Quidditch captain next year."

"She's more than good," Oliver says. "Has Gwenog seen her?"

"Gwenog Jones?" I say. "Of the Holyhead Harpies? Come on, Oliver - do you really think Ginny's that good?" I mean, _I_ think she is, but she's my girlfriend so I'm bound to be a bit prejudiced in her favor.

"Yeah, I do," Oliver says. "Look, don't say anything to Ginny, but I'm going to send Gwenog an owl and ask her to try and make it down here to catch a match or two. It may not come to anything, but…"

"I won't tell Ginny," I promise. "It'd just make her nervous." I look back at the field. "She _is_ good," I say again. "Mind, that bloke they've got trying out for Keeper is pathetic. Even Hermione could probably score against him."

Oliver grins at me. "Let's go show them how it's done," he says, leading the way onto the field. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Hermione**

"That's everything, then," Seamus says, coming up behind me and Ron while we're mending statues in the third-floor corridor on Saturday afternoon.

"What's everything?" Ron asks, glancing over his shoulder. "Here, Hermione, see if you can get this arm on straight, will you?"

I look at the statue's arm. It's not just crooked; it's on backwards. "For heaven's sake, Ron," I say, fixing it. "_What's_ everything, Seamus?"

"This," Seamus says, making a sweeping motion with his arms. "Hogwarts. We've finished."

"We have?" Ron says, startled. "All of it?"

"All but a couple of little odds and ends," Seamus says. "So many people showed up last night that we've done the lot."

Finished… at last. Now I can leave with a clear conscience.

"So anyway," Seamus says briskly. "I reckon we ought to have a proper going-away party tonight. It'll probably be the last chance we have, with everyone going on to new jobs and all."

"Good idea," Ron says, stuffing his wand back in his pocket. "Will we have it at the Three Broomsticks, then?"

"We can start there," Seamus says, grinning at him. "I'm planning to stock up on a few supplies so we can carry on here later." He suddenly seems to remember that I'm here and adds hastily, "You know, food and - er - butterbeer; that sort of thing."

"Right," I say, not fooled. "Well, unless you two plan to start your party now, we'd better finish up these statues."

"You don't need me for that, do you?" Seamus says, retreating quickly. "I've got to go and make sure everyone knows about the party."

"I thought we'd just done the last statue," Ron says, looking puzzled. "Are there more?"

"No," I say, and wait. It only takes him a second to get it.

"Leaves us plenty of time to be on our own, then, doesn't it?" he says, drawing me close to him.

"As long as I'm back by three o'clock at the latest," I say. "There's still that last library book to be mended." I worked on the books last night and managed to repair all of the others that Michael and Terry had given up as hopeless, but the final one - a copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ - is so mangled that even I'm not sure I can put it right.

"That one's a lost cause, if you ask me," Ron says. "Let it go, Hermione. It's not like _Fantastic Beasts_ is exactly rare."

"They'll still have to replace it," I argue, but I let him lead me down the stairs and out the front door toward the lake. I know it seems silly, but _Fantastic Beasts_ is sort of symbolic to me, seeing as I'm hoping to work for the Department that deals with them. If I could just fix that book, I know I'd feel better about my upcoming interview.

"I'd let you have mine," Ron says. "If I hadn't lost it years ago." His hand tightens on mine. "I wish George had shown up," he says, seemingly out of nowhere.

"I know," I say gently. "I thought he might come with Lee, but…"

"Lee said he asked him, but George said he couldn't leave the shop on a weekend," Ron says.

"Well, at least he's taking an interest in the business," I say. "Look, we'll go and see him as soon as we get settled in Grimmauld Place, all right?"

"All right," Ron says. "Thanks, Hermione."

**Draco**

I heard them all making plans to go to the Three Broomsticks tonight. A celebration, that's what that git Finnegan called it. There's nothing much to celebrate if you ask me - except for the fact that I can finally go home. At least I can get out of here without anyone seeing me. There's certainly no one I want to say goodbye to.

The castle's quiet once they've all gone. I never even bothered with unpacking, so I'm ready to go. I've just got to get the thing Rodolphus gave me last night, and then I can leave this place for good.

_We were in the woods just outside the school gates when he pulled an envelope from beneath his cloak and stuffed it into my hand. "Take this and don't let anyone see it," he ordered._

_It felt like there was something in there besides just parchment. I'd started to open it, but he stopped me. "Not here, fool," he hissed. "Wait till you're alone. And mind you follow the instructions to the letter."_

_He wouldn't tell me anything else - just brushed me off saying he'd be in touch._

_"Take your time," I said, but not loud enough so he could hear. I wish bloody Rodolphus would find someone else to do his spying for him._

_I meant to go straight back to the Slytherin Common Room, but then I saw Weasley and the Mudblood heading upstairs and couldn't resist following them. I was careful this time, but it wouldn't have mattered - they were far too busy snogging each other every third step to pay any attention to me. They wouldn't have noticed a herd of centaurs._

_They weren't going anyplace interesting, though - just the library. Maybe the Mudblood's trying to make an intellectual out of Weasley. Got an uphill battle there, doesn't she? I waited till they went inside and then turned away. A stack of books on a table outside the library door caught my attention for a minute. I thought there might be something good there - maybe something from the Restricted section._

_"Looking for something, Mr. Malfoy?" someone said from behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin, but it was only that dried-up old librarian._

_"No," I said, trying to conceal the envelope in my hand._

_Pince glared at me suspiciously. "What's that you've got there?" she demanded, trying to see what I was holding. "Is that library property?"_

_I still had one of the books in my other hand. "I haven't got anything," I said coldly, managing to slip the envelope inside the cover. "And what difference does it make if I look at these old books or not? They look like they're headed for the rubbish bin."_

_Pince drew herself up. "Books should never be disposed of lightly," she said huffily. "Those are all repairable."_

_Not in my opinion. I wouldn't own a book that looked like any of these. Then again, I don't suppose being a school librarian pays very well. I mean, look at the way she dresses. Mother wouldn't be caught dead in robes like that._

_"Shouldn't you be helping Mr. Filch?" Pince said. "I'm sure he said something about checking for leaks in the plumbing today."_

_I'd forgotten she was sweet on Filch. "I've got something else to do," I told her, starting off quickly._

_"Leave the book," Pince called sharply after me._

_Interfering old hag. But I knew I could come back for it later. It wasn't likely anyone would want a beat-up old copy of _Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them, _was it?_

Only it appears that someone did, because it's not here. The books that were stacked up outside the library are all gone.

"Someone's just repaired it, that's all," I tell myself reassuringly. "It'll be in the library."

Only it's not. It's not anywhere. They must have given up on this one and binned it. Rodolphus is going to kill me.

**Ron**

We don't make it back by three o'clock - or even four.

"It's already after five," Hermione says, tugging at my hand to make me walk faster. "I'm not sure I'm going to have time to finish repairing that book before we go to Hogsmeade."

"Let the book go, Hermione," I say for about the fiftieth time. "Or bring it with us, if you want - you can work on it at Grimmauld Place." Along with all the hundreds of other broken things that probably need to be repaired.

"I _could_ bring it, I suppose," Hermione says doubtfully. "I could always mail it back by owl post."

Or she could just Vanish the damned thing and be done with it, but I know better than to say so. "We're only just going to make dinner," I say. "If you want to change before we go to the Three Broomsticks, you won't have time for anything else." Personally I don't see any reason to change clothes - it's just Hogsmeade, isn't it? - but Hermione seems to think we ought to.

The Three Broomsticks is packed by the time we get there. Just about everybody that's had anything to do with restoring Hogwarts is here tonight - even the teachers. Everybody except Malfoy, that is. I didn't see him at dinner, either - with any luck he's already gone home. I spot Percy deep in conversation with McGonagall and quickly steer Hermione in the opposite direction so he won't see me. I don't want any more advice on passing my Auror test.

We've probably been there about an hour when Luna suddenly leans across the table to me. "Isn't that your brother?" she asks.

"You mean Percy?" I say, groaning. "Don't remind me."

"Not him," Luna says. "The other one. The one whose - the one who keeps the joke shop."

"George is here?" I say, stunned. But she's right. George is trying to make his way across the pub, but he's getting stopped every couple of feet by people who want to talk to him. Most of them are patting him on the shoulder and talking in low voices. I know they're just trying to be nice and all, but all this sympathy's not doing George any good, is it? He already looks half-sorry he came.

"George," I call, standing up. "Over here."

He hears me and comes - but unfortunately so does Percy.

"All right," George says, sitting down across from me and prodding the rung of my chair with his foot. "I give up. What do a diary, Hufflepuff's cup, a ring and all the other bloody things have in common?"

I grin at him. "Finally got to you, did it?"

"I'll get to you if you don't tell me," George says, leaning across the table. "Come on, Ron - it's driving me insane."

I look at Hermione. "I think we could tell him now, don't you?" she says.

"Thanks, Hermione," George says. "I always did like you better than Lavender Brown."

I kick his foot off my chair. "Shut up about that if you want to hear this story," I say warningly.

"What's this?" Percy asks, sitting down on my other side. "Have you got a good story, Ron? Let's hear it, then!" He nods at me encouragingly.

One thing I'm not going to do - ever - is tell Percy about last year. "I don't have a story," I say quickly. I look around desperately and my eye catches Luna's.

"It's my story," she says, giving Percy that spacey smile of hers. "I was going to tell about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack horn that my father got me for Christmas last year."

"That was not - " Hermione begins, but I put my hand over hers.

"Let her tell it," I whisper.

And it's working. Percy hitches his chair closer to Luna's. "I'm terribly sorry, but I must have misheard you," he says. "I thought you said a Crumple-Horned Snorkack." He laughs a little.

"Oh, you've heard of them!" Luna says happily. "Well, then, you must know that the horns are terribly rare. Would you like to sit down at that empty table with me? It's so unusual to find someone to talk to who actually knows something about Snorkacks."

Percy looks undecided. He doesn't believe a word she's saying, of course, but he hates to admit he's not an expert at anything.

"Come on," Luna says, not giving him time to make up his mind.

Percy gets up without another word and follows her. Luna looks at me over his shoulder and winks. She's all right sometimes, Luna.

"That takes care of him for awhile," George says. "All right, Ron. Let's hear it."

**Harry**

The Three Broomsticks is getting noisier and more crowded by the minute. Ginny catches my eye and grins at me, nodding toward Percy and Luna. Poor Percy - he looks like he's in shock. He keeps taking off his glasses and polishing them nervously. "But you can't _possibly_ think - " I hear him say. Luna smiles serenely.

Ron and Hermione are still telling George about the Horcruxes. "And then Neville came in through the portrait," Ron's saying. "He led us into the Room of Requirement, and - well, you know the rest!"

"He _doesn't_ know the rest," Hermione protests. "Tell him about Hufflepuff's cup. Ron was absolutely brilliant, George, he got us into the Chamber of Secrets and - "

I don't want to be called in to help finish the story. "Come on," I say to Ginny. "Let's go get another drink."

There's a long line at the bar. Ginny leans close to me, putting her mouth up against my ear so I can hear her. "How long do you reckon before Rosmerta gets fed up and kicks everyone out?" she asks.

I think about it. "Couple more hours, maybe," I say. "She's in a pretty good mood tonight."

"Good," Ginny says. "Let's go."

I let her lead me outside. "Want to go for a walk or something?" I ask. It's a nice night - cool enough for a sweater, but there's only a light breeze.

Ginny turns to face me. "Harry, no one's thought to look for the Room of Requirement, have they?" she asks.

"No," I say, startled. "I don't think even Neville's tried. But I'm pretty sure it's gone, Ginny."

Still, it wouldn't hurt to look, would it? And then maybe we can have the Common Room to ourselves for a bit. It'll be hours before that lot in the bar comes back. And it'll be weeks before I get Ginny on her own again…

"It couldn't just _disappear_," Ginny argues as we climb the stairs to the seventh floor. "It's not like it's just a regular room."

"You didn't see it," I say. "That fire - I can't believe anything's left of it."

Ginny looks thoughtful. "Maybe not that particular room - the one where all the hidden things go," she says. "But surely we can make it be something else, if we try?"

"One way to find out," I say, stopping as we reach the corridor. I look around. Someone's cleaned most of the scorch marks from the walls, but the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy is still black with soot.

"_Scourgify_," Ginny says, pointing her wand at it hopefully, but it doesn't make much difference that I can see.

"Forget it," I say. "I think Barnabas has taught his last troll to dance. Let's just try the Room."

Ginny smiles up at me. "I know what sort of room I want it to be," she says. "Anyplace where we can be alone for five minutes."

She's got a point there. It's rather hard to be alone at Hogwarts. Even if you can manage to get away from all the other people, there's always a portrait or a ghost or something hovering about.

"Sounds good to me," I say, taking her hand. "Let's give it a go."

We walk past three times, concentrating. And on the third pass…

"It worked!" Ginny whispers.

"The _door_ worked," I remind her. "We won't know for sure till we go in."

Ginny's right, though. The Room, once we gather the nerve to push the door open, has transformed itself into what looks like a small flat. It sort of reminds me of the tent, except the furniture's a lot nicer. "You were right," I say to Ginny. "It must have only been the other room that was burned down. This one doesn't even smell like smoke."

Ginny closes the door firmly behind us. "I wish we'd thought of this before," she says. "Finally, a place where we don't have to worry about any of my brothers walking in on us."

**Hermione**

I'm horribly nervous before my interview. I look anxiously about for Amos Diggory as I enter the Department, but he's nowhere in sight - thank goodness. A rather disinterested-looking woman has me fill out an application. After a long while, a man comes out of a back office, yawning and smoothing his hair down as he does.

"Wilton Sikes," he says, yawning again and offering his hand. "I've just been appointed head of the Being Division."

It rather looks as though I've interrupted his nap. Sikes looks my application over briefly. "Excellent marks on your OWLs," he says approvingly. "Why didn't you finish seventh year?"

Evidently he hasn't made the connection. "I'm Muggle-born," I say. "I was - er - away for most of last year."

Sikes looks down at the application again and then back at me, startled. "Granger," he says. "Merlin's beard, you're the Muggle-born who was helping Potter!"

"Yes," I say.

Sikes passes a hand over his hair, rumpling it again. "I thought Gawain was claiming the lot of you for his own," he says. "Didn't you want to be an Auror?"

"No," I say firmly. "I want to do something to help house-elves."

"Good for you," Sikes says, beaming at me. "We'll start you off in the House-Elf Relocation Office, then, shall we?"

"You mean I've got the job?" I ask, surprised. I'd expected him to ask me a lot more questions.

"Certainly," Sikes says, smothering another yawn. "Anyone who could do what you did last year can certainly handle house-elves." He shakes my hand again and turns to go back into his office. "Miranda can tell you all about hours and salary and that sort of thing," he says over his shoulder. "You can start on Monday, if that's convenient."

"Monday's fine," I answer, dazed. I start to ask who Miranda is, but his door's already shut. Well, she must be the woman who gave me the application.

She confirms it a few minutes later. "Got the job, then?" she asks. "I thought you would when I saw your application. Wilton hates doing interviews - he usually hires anyone who's got neat handwriting."

"Oh," I say, feeling vaguely insulted. "I guess I needn't have bothered memorizing all the department branches and their functions."

Miranda laughs. "It'll come in handy," she says. "Now, which office are you going to be in and when are you supposed to start?" She seems to be a bit friendlier, now that she knows I'll be working with her.

"Monday," I say. "For the House-Elf Relocation office. I'm not sure exactly what I'll be doing there."

"House-Elf Relocation?" Miranda says, looking a bit taken aback.

Honestly. Why is everyone so surprised when I say I want to help house-elves? "Yes," I say, a bit stiffly.

She doesn't say anything else; just pushes a piece of parchment at me. "Here's your starting salary and job description," she says. "I'm afraid the position's entry-level, but you'll have plenty of chances to advance - or change to a different office."

"Why should I want to change?" I can't help asking.

"No reason," Miranda says, looking uncomfortable. "Report to me a bit before nine on Monday morning, and I'll show you where to go."

It's definitely a dismissal. "Right," I say, taking the parchment. "Thanks for your help."

**Ron**

"Ron, I got the job!" Hermione says. Her face is glowing.

"Good for you," I say, kissing her. "I knew you would. Come on into the sitting room and have your tea. You can tell us all about your interview."

The sitting room looks a lot better than it used to - the whole house does, in fact. We were expecting to have to do a lot of work, but Kreacher and the other elves had done most of it before we even got here. Hermione still thinks we ought to be paying Kreacher, but Harry managed to convince her that it'd hurt his feelings. Anyway, I like having him around - it beats having to cook for ourselves.

"Well done," Harry says, putting his book down. "I knew you'd get it. When do you start?"

"Not till Monday," Hermione says. "So I've got plenty of time to help you two study."

Our Auror exam's tomorrow. I feel sick every time I think about it.

"We've been trying to remember potions ingredients," Harry says, waving the book at her. "You don't suppose we'll have to make any, do you?"

"Not without a book, probably," Hermione says, but she looks a bit worried. "Maybe we ought to get a cauldron and practice just the same."

If we have to make potions, I might as well give up right now. It's like cooking - it sounds easy enough when you read about it, but nothing ever seems to turn out like you think it ought to. Anyway, it's not like a few more hours of practice is going to make up for six years of being horrible at it.

Harry agrees with me. "I've been thinking about that test Remus gave us in third year," he says. "You know, that one that was sort of like an obstacle course? I think the Auror test is going to be more like that."

"Only harder, I suppose," Hermione says. "It's not likely they'll have anything as easy as boggarts or grindylows."

Grindylows aren't that easy if you ask me. Those teeth are sharp. "How are we supposed to practice that?" I ask. "We can't exactly set up an obstacle course in the sitting room."

"No, but we could sort of imagine various situations and see how quickly you respond," Hermione says. "Here, Harry, you go first. Er - pretend something's on fire."

"_Aguamenti_," Harry says at once.

"Excellent," Hermione tells him, pleased. "Now, Ron - imagine you need to escape from someone on a staircase."

"_Glisseo_," I say, remembering what she did during the battle. "And then a Shield Charm when they start after me."

It definitely helps, and Harry and I are both feeling a bit better by the time we go to bed.

"Good night," I say to him - a bit awkwardly - as I follow Hermione up the stairs. Harry seemed a little bit surprised when I told him Hermione and I were going to be sharing a room, but he didn't say much. Not that he'd care, anyway - but I'm going to make sure Mum never finds out.

"We can practice a little while we get ready for bed," Hermione says briskly. "What about Conjuring? Can you tell me the five exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration?"

She's unbuttoning her robes while she's talking. "What?" I say, watching her. "Er, food and - and - "

Hermione rolls her eyes at me as she hangs her new robes in the wardrobe. "Concentrate," she says sternly.

"I am," I say, watching her from the back.

"Supposing it's on your exam?" Hermione asks, but she doesn't resist when I kiss her. "You really ought to be studying," she says weakly.

"This'll help me relax," I say. "Come on, Hermione, it's not going to take that long."

"Oh, _there's_ an incentive," Hermione says.

"That's not what I meant," I protest.

Hermione laughs and lets me pull her on to the bed. "We're going to go over Gamp's Law later," she warns me, but I reckon I can talk her out of it.

**Harry**

Ron's too nervous to eat breakfast, but anxiety always makes me hungry. "Ron, you need to eat something," Hermione says firmly. "You _know_ how you get if you don't eat."

We all know how he gets. I've got enough on my mind without having to cope with a moody friend. "Hermione's right," I say. "Eat something."

Ron chokes down a piece of toast, but by the look of him, it might have been a mistake. "I'm going to be sick," he says.

"You're not," Hermione says, even more firmly, but she looks at him a bit anxiously. "Just remember everything we practiced, and you'll be fine."

"We'd better go," I say.

Hermione pulls Ron aside, whispering to him. I can't hear what she said, but he looks a bit happier. "Good luck," she says, kissing him.

I can't help wishing Ginny was here to wish me luck. I feel something tap against my knee and look down to see Kreacher. "Good luck, Master," he croaks. "Not that Master needs it, sir - Kreacher's master is the cleverest wizard in the world!"

Well, it's not exactly a kiss from my girlfriend, but it'll have to do. It cheers me up, anyway. "Thanks, Kreacher," I say. "Ready, Ron?"

There's a wizard in red Aurors' robes waiting for us when we get to the Ministry. "I am Gawain Robards," he says, not offering to shake hands. "I'll be administering your exams. Follow me, please."

Not very friendly, is he? "He'll be our boss," I whisper as we follow Robards toward the lift.

"_If_ we pass the test," Ron whispers back.

The Auror Department looks a lot like I remember it, except that no one seems to be around. I try to sneak a look into cubicles as we go by, but the place is deserted.

"In here," Robards says, opening a door and ushering us into a large room.

Now I know where everyone is - they're in here. At least two dozen Aurors, all in red robes, are seated in rows along the back wall of the room. I recognize Hestia and give her a small wave behind Robards' back. I hadn't realized we were going to have to take our exams in front of half the Auror Department. If I fail, they'll all see me…

"You may as well know that I disapprove strongly of this change in policy," Robards says, looking at us sternly. "However, the Minister of Magic seems to think you two are exceptionally talented. I can only hope you won't prove him wrong this morning."

It's only too obvious that he hopes we _will_ prove Kingsley wrong. I look sideways at Ron. His face looks sort of green.

"Being an Auror takes courage, cunning, and the ability to deal with unexpected situations," Robards says. "It's not just playing about with disguises and tracking spells. In certain situations, you must be prepared to fight to the death, if necessary." He whips around to glare at us. "Ever killed anyone?"

The question takes me by surprise. "Er - only Lord Voldemort," I say, almost apologetically.

The room erupts in laughter. Even Ron's grinning. "Silence!" Robards says, glaring at the assembled Aurors. "We will move on to the practical portion of the exam, after which I shall administer a short written test. If you pass both of these - and I'll warn you now, most applicants fail, even after two years of study - you'll be accepted on a probationary basis."

Hestia and some of the others nod at us encouragingly. I look for Dedalus Diggle, but he's not there.

"Let us begin," Robards says, flicking his wand at the center of the room.

Ron and I both jump back as something starts to rise from the floor. It looks almost like a one-story house, except that there's no roof - and no windows. I can see a door at either end.

"This," Robards says, indicating the house with a sweep of his wand, "is what is known as the Aurors' Alley. Make it through to the other side safely and you'll have passed the first part of the practical portion of the exam. If you don't…" He draws his wand across his throat and glares at us meaningfully.

Ron throws me a panicked look. "They wouldn't just leave us to die in there, would they?" he whispers.

"Hestia wouldn't," I whisper back. I'm not so sure about Robards, though.

All the same, I feel a bit more confident. I was right about one thing - it's like the obstacle course. "I'll go first, if you like," I say to Ron.

Ron nods blankly. "Good luck," he mutters.

I walk up to the house. I'm not sure for a minute if I'm supposed to just walk in or not. It could be a trap, couldn't it? Maybe I ought to do something to check for jinxes first, only I can't think what.

"We haven't got all day, Potter!" Robards barks.

Right, then. "_Alohomora_," I say, swallowing hard. The door swings open and I step inside.

I'm prepared for the worst, but I find the course surprisingly easy. In fact, it's actually sort of fun. Various traps and jinxes are springing up all over the place, but it's nothing I can't handle. It's more the speed of the thing that makes it hard, I think - there's only a split second to react to each curse before another one takes its place. Still, this is nothing compared to escaping from Malfoy Manor or breaking out of Gringotts.

A coat-stand bursts into flames just as I'm realizing that the runner along the hallway is actually made of Devil's Snare. _Might as well get two at once_, I think, sending the burning coat-stand into the runner with a Locomotor Charm. There's the other door - I'm nearly through.

I can feel them before I see them. It's suddenly cold and damp in here and I can feel a wave of despair wash over me. What was I playing at, thinking I'd ever be an Auror?

"_Expecto Patronum!_" I say firmly, holding hard to the memory of Ginny telling me that she loved me. The silver stag bursts out of my wand, and the dementors are suddenly gone.

The exit door's in front of me. I open it and step out.

The Aurors are cheering, but Robards silences them at once. "Very good," he says, looking disappointed. "Your turn, Weasley."

Much to my relief, Ron manages it almost as quickly as I did. One sleeve looks a bit singed, but he's otherwise undamaged. "That wasn't so bad," he whispers as he joins me.

"All right," Robards says, Vanishing the house. "Let's try a bit of dueling, shall we?" He points his wand at me without warning. "_Expelliarmus_!" he snaps.

I manage to counter it with a Shield Charm just in time. I see Robards look sideways at Ron. He's going to try it on him next, I'll bet.

"_Expelliarmus!_" I say quickly.

Robards catches his wand as it starts to fly out of his hand. Several of the Aurors look like they're trying not to laugh.

"Conjuring Charms," Robards snaps. He looks at Ron. "You - get me a chair."

Ron looks terrified, but manages well enough - although the chair he produces looks like it's seen better days.

"Hmm," Robards says, glancing at it dismissively. "You, Potter - get me a cushion for this extremely uncomfortable chair!"

A cushion? Not exactly challenging, but all right. I Conjure a bright-red one to match his robes.

Robards places it carefully in the chair and glares at us again. "Very well," he says coldly. "Let's see how accomplished you are at Legilimency and Occlumency." He turns to Ron again. "_Legilimens!_"

Ron's ears are red with the struggle not to give up his thoughts. After a long moment, Robards looks away. "Your turn, Potter," he says. "I understand this is not one of your more accomplished areas."

Thanks a lot, whoever shared _that_ little bit of information with him. "I've been practicing," I say, meeting his gaze. "I'm ready."

Robards shrugs. "_Legilimens!_" he says.

He's good, but he's not as good as Snape was. I can feel him tugging at my mind, but I concentrate on blocking him out.

"I see that you have, indeed, been practicing," Robards says grudgingly, after what feels like forever. "See that you keep it up."

He flicks his wand again, and two desks appear. Another flick brings parchment and quills. "The written portion of your examination will now commence," Robards says coldly. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you that you may not communicate with each other in any way."

Ron throws me a panicked look and sinks into the chair at the nearest desk. I take the one on the far side of the room. I'm not as nervous as I was - I feel like the hard part's over with. Anyway, with all the studying Hermione's made us do, we ought to be able to get through any sort of exam. As long as he doesn't bring up Divination or History of Magic, we should be just fine.

The written exam's longer than I'd expected. There are a couple of things I'm not sure about - who the hell knows what the five exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration are, anyway? - but I think I've managed to scrape by. I breathe a sigh of relief as Robards raises his wand to Summon our exam papers.

"Someone grade these," Robards says, scarcely bothering to glance at the parchment in his hand. "No, not you, Hestia - you'd be far too easy on them. Someone else."

An elderly man rises slowly to his feet and holds out a hand. Robards shoots the exams over to him without a second look.

The room is silent while we wait. I almost feel like I can't breathe. Hestia catches my eye again and smiles encouragingly.

"Gawain?" the elderly man says, waving the pieces of parchment at him. "Top marks, both of them." He turns and smiles at Ron. "And this young man managed to list all five of Gamp's Exceptions. _Most_ impressive!"

Robards takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "You've passed, then," he says, looking at a point in the room just past my shoulder. "Congratulations, and welcome to the Auror Department."

The Aurors are all cheering. "Congratulations, Harry!" Hestia calls, beaming at me.

Ron's eyes meet mine. "I can't believe it," he says wonderingly. "We're in, Harry!"

Robards clears his throat. "For the first year of your employment, you will be apprenticed to a more experienced Auror for additional training," he reminds us. "I must remind you that your actions during this year will be monitored closely. Should you fail to meet our standards, you will be dismissed without notice." He smiles for the first time - not a particularly nice smile. "Let me see… I'd intended to place Weasley with Miss Hedges, but she's on an undercover assignment. Miss Duckworthy, what about you?"

A girl with short blonde hair waves at Ron from the first row. She doesn't look much older than us, and I can't help wondering how long she's been an Auror.

"As for you, Potter," Robards begins.

"I'd be glad to train him, Gawain," Hestia says. "Or Dedalus would!"

"I think not," Robards says, raising an eyebrow. "Potter, I believe I'll train you myself."

Oh, please let him not have said that. I feel my heart sink as I look at him.

"Your training begins tonight at midnight," Robards says, finally looking me in the eye. "Meet me in the Leaky Cauldron, disguised as a Muggle. We shall see how proficient you are at the art of concealment. And see that you're not late!"

He turns abruptly and leaves the room.

There's a definite change in the atmosphere as soon as he's gone. The Aurors are all coming over to us now, congratulating us and introducing themselves. I recognize some of them from the battle at Hogwarts.

Hestia pulls me aside. "Just between us, I think Gawain was expecting you to fail, Harry," she whispers. "But you did brilliantly!"

"Thanks," I say. "Er - does he do this often? Take a trainee on himself?"

"No, never," Hestia says, looking uncomfortable. "But I'm sure it'll be all right, Harry. After all, you've proved you have the makings of an outstanding Auror."

"Let's hope so," I say. Suddenly I just want to be back at Grimmauld Place. I look around for Ron and spot him deep in conversation with the blonde girl - Duckworthy, I think Robards called her.

"Ready?" I say, catching his eye. "I think I'd better go home and get some sleep if I've got to meet Robards at midnight." 


	7. Chapter 7

**Hermione**

I try to read though my job description again after Ron and Harry leave, but I can't seem to concentrate. I wish I could have gone with them - although in some ways I think it'll be easier for Ron if I'm not there.

I pause on the landing and look down into the hall. It may be cleaner, but I still don't think much of the decorating style. _It's Harry's house,_ I remind myself sternly. _If he wants to change it, he will._ At least we got rid of the Tongue-Tying curse, and that dreadful apparition that was supposed to be Dumbledore's ghost.

Kreacher comes out of the sitting room, dusting cloth in hand, and looks up at me.

"Oh, hello, Kreacher," I say, a bit nervously. He's been a bit friendlier to me this time around, but he still won't look me in the eye and he never speaks to me directly unless it's absolutely necessary.

Kreacher nods silently and begins to dust the banister. I turn and start back upstairs. Maybe I'll have another go at the job description.

"Kreacher's master has told him that Miss is going to help house-elves," Kreacher says abruptly from behind me.

I turn, startled. "That's right," I say. "I'm going to work in the House-Elf Relocation office."

Kreacher snorts. "House-elves what need to be relocated is _bad_ house-elves," he says sternly. "Good house-elves has a proper family to take care of. Bad house-elves gets given clothes and no respectable family wants a house-elf with clothes."

"Being given clothes doesn't necessarily mean the house-elf did anything wrong," I protest. "Anyway, they could need help for other reasons. Supposing - supposing everyone in the family's dead and the elf has nowhere to go?"

Kreacher regards me cynically. "Everyone in Kreacher's family is dead," he points out. "But Kreacher stayed with his house, as is proper, Miss. And now Kreacher has a new master."

"Maybe they haven't got houses, either," I say, a bit wildly. It's hard to know what to say.

Kreacher shakes his head. "Miss is very young," he says, not unkindly. "Miss will have to learn for herself that there is good house-elves and bad house-elves."

That appears to be all he has to say on the subject, for he turns silently away, heading for the kitchen. Still, it's the longest conversation I've ever had with Kreacher. I'm sure it means he's beginning to accept me.

Well, now what? I suppose I could pick out my clothes for my first day at work, even though it's not till Monday. Maybe I ought to wear my hair up. It makes me look older, even though it's an awful nuisance to have to bother with it.

I can't find my Sleekeazy potion anywhere. Ron's clothes are all over the place - I wish he'd learn to put things away properly. Maybe it's still in my trunk.

It's not - but something else is. The damaged copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ that I took from the Hogwarts library is lying forgotten in the top tray of my trunk. I feel a pang of guilt, looking at it. I'd meant to work on it as soon as we got here, but there's been so much else going on…

"Hermione!" Ron's voice calls from downstairs. "Hermione, I passed! We both did!"

I close the trunk hastily and run down the stairs. Ron sweeps me off my feet before I've even reached the bottom.

"We were brilliant!" he says gleefully, swinging me around till I'm dizzy. "And Harry was right about having to do an obstacle course - and you'll never guess what came up on the written test. The five exceptions to Gamp's Law, that's what!"

"I hope you knew them," I say, laughing down into his face.

"How could I help it, with you saying them over and over before I fell asleep last night?" Ron demands, finally setting me on my feet.

"That explains it," Harry says from behind us. "I wondered how you got all those. The only one I knew was food."

"Congratulations, Harry," I say belatedly, hugging him. It strikes me that he doesn't look quite as ecstatic as Ron does. "I don't suppose it mattered - you passed!"

"Yeah," Harry says, managing a smile. "I'm in - for now."

There's an odd look on his face as he says this. I'm about to ask what's wrong when Kreacher comes hurrying into the hallway. "Congratulations, Master!" he croaks. "Kreacher is preparing a special dinner to celebrate, sir!"

"Let's make it an early one," Harry says. "I've got my first assignment at midnight tonight - with Gawain Robards."

"Goodness, already?" I say. "And with Robards? That's not usual, surely?"

"No, it's not," Harry says. "And it's not usual for Robards to assign a trainee to himself, either, but that's what he's done with me."

"Well, surely that's a compliment?" I say. "He must think you're really good, Harry."

Harry gives me a twisted smile. "I doubt it," he says. "I definitely got the impression that he'd like nothing better than to be able to get rid of me as soon as possible."

I look at Ron, who nods. "He didn't seem awfully keen on having either one of us in the program," he admits. "I think it's because Kingsley made him change the rules for us."

Oh dear. Poor Harry - as if having to deal with Snape all those years at school wasn't enough, now he's got a boss that seems to feel the same way about him. "What about you?" I say to Ron. "Are you assigned to Robards as well?"

Ron shakes his head. "No, I've got a girl called Perdita Duckworthy," he says. "She's great - she only just qualified herself last year. I think she's going to be lots of fun."

Really. "Is she - er - married?" I ask, trying to keep my tone casual. Harry glances at me, obviously amused. _Oh, shut up,_ I tell him silently.

"I dunno," Ron says, oblivious. "I never thought to ask her. We only talked for a few minutes. I'm supposed to meet her at the Ministry tomorrow morning so she can show me round the Auror office."

Harry's face falls again. "It's all right for you," he says morosely. "I'll bet Robards won't be bothered showing me round. Oh, and I'm supposed to show up disguised as a Muggle tonight, so he can test me on how good my 'powers of concealment' are."

"Well, that's easy enough," I say briskly. "I've got a bit of Polyjuice Potion left upstairs. All we need to do is find a likely-looking Muggle and steal a bit of hair from him."

Harry looks relieved. "Thanks, Hermione," he says. "I think I'll do it now. I'll just go and get my Invisibility Cloak."

"_Does_ Robards have it in for him?" I demand, the second Harry's vanished up the stairs.

"It sort of seems like it," Ron admits, looking uncomfortable. He sits down on the bottom step and looks up at me. "You don't think he'd really try to get rid of him, do you?" he says. "It wouldn't be any fun doing this without Harry."

"Oh, come on," I say uneasily, sitting down next to him. "It can't have been that bad. I expect Robards is just a bit resentful - after all, he was sort of forced into this."

Ron puts his arm around me. "Harry's bound to win him over in the end," he says optimistically. "He's going to be brilliant at being an Auror - anyone could see that much. Hey, Hermione, did I tell you about the obstacle course yet?"

I lean my head on his shoulder. "Not yet," I say, smiling to myself. "How did you get on with it?"

**Draco**

Luckily I'm alone when the owl comes. In the past it wouldn't have mattered, but we get so little post now that owls tend to stand out a bit. Father thinks the Aurors are stealing his letters, but personally I don't think anyone's written to him.

I don't recognize the handwriting, but I have an uneasy feeling that I know who this is going to be from. There are only a few words written inside.

_"The first name on the list will be your primary contact."_

Bloody Rodolphus. Why can't he leave me alone? I suppose the list he's referring to was in that envelope I lost. Well, that's just great, isn't it? How the hell am I supposed to know who it is? It's not like before when we all had Dark Marks. I'll just have to play it by ear and hope whoever-it-is identifies himself to me first. I'll have to be careful, though - if I guess wrong, I'm likely to end up in Azkaban. For a minute I think that maybe I ought to try and find Rodolphus so I could tell him I lost the envelope - but no. He'd kill me. I'll have to find a way to tell him to stop writing to me here, though. If Mother had spotted that letter first… Not that I have to explain myself, exactly - I'm of age, after all - but Mother does tend to hover a bit.

She comes into the hall just as I'm thinking this. "Oh, you've a letter, dear," she says, smiling at me. "From one of your friends?"

"Yeah," I say, thinking quickly. "It's from - er - Blaise Zabini. He's in France."

I'm pretty sure Zabini _is_ in France - I remember Pansy saying something about his mother marrying a Frenchman recently. Not that he'd ever write to me. For one thing, we weren't all that close, and for another, Zabini's not the sort to bother with letters.

Mother doesn't know that, though. "I'd heard Belinda had married another foreigner," she says disapprovingly. "I do hope he's _all right._"

Pureblood, that's what she means. Father comes out of the sitting room in time to hear her. "Hardly matters, the way Belinda runs through them," he says, smirking. "This one's probably a hundred if he's a day, and rich into the bargain."

"Make sure you tell Blaise to give her my regards when you write back," Mother says, losing interest.

"He's asked me to visit," I say, improvising wildly. "I might be going over for a bit." Just as well to have a cover story in case Rodolphus comes up with some awful thing he wants me to do.

Father raises an eyebrow. "You start your new job on Monday," he reminds me. "Unless you've given up on the idea."

I wish. "I'll get holiday time, surely?" I say.

Father laughs. "Two weeks every year, just like a damned Muggle," he says. "And they won't like it if you try to take them straight away."

_Two weeks?_ How does anyone stand it?

Mother puts her hand on my arm. "Now you see how inconvenient it's going to be, darling," she says. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I've told you I do," I say, pulling my arm away. I need to get out of here for awhile. "I'll need new robes," I say. "I'd better go to Diagon Alley this afternoon and see if I can find something."

"Mind you don't get navy blue," Father says, drifting back toward the sitting room and the firewhisky. "You don't want anyone asking you to unstop a toilet."

For a minute I'm afraid Mother's going to say she'll come to Diagon Alley with me, but she follows Father without another word. Left alone, I unfold Rodolphus's letter again. My primary contact… maybe it'll be a name I recognize. Father knew most of the important Death Eaters.

I turn to leave and nearly jump out of my skin when I realize someone's right behind me.

"Oh, it's just you, Lurleen," I say, relaxing. "You shouldn't go sneaking up on people like that."

Lurleen stares at me blankly. I think she's a bit half-witted, but Mother says good help is hard to come by. This is the third maidservant she's had since June.

"Young Master has a letter," Lurleen says, looking at the parchment in my hand.

_Thank you for pointing that out, Madam Obvious._ "How very observant of you," I say coldly. "Haven't you got some cleaning or something to do?"

Lurleen turns without another word and starts up the stairs. Father says it's a disgrace for people of our status to have to pay for household help, but Mother says she can't possibly be expected to cope with everything on her own. Father had to give in because it's his fault we haven't got a house-elf anymore.

"Draco?" Mother calls from the sitting room.

Bloody hell - she's probably decided to come with me after all. I slip noiselessly through the front door and Disapparate before she can catch me.

**Harry**

It doesn't take me long to spot him - a Muggle businessman on his way out to lunch. He's so busy checking out a couple of girls on the other side of the road that he doesn't even realize I'm right behind him. I reach out and pluck a few hairs from the back of his head. The Muggle bats at my hand vaguely. Probably thinks it's a fly or something.

Ron and Hermione are waiting for me in a nearby alley, hidden from the street by a large dustbin. "All set," I say, slipping off the Cloak. "I wish I'd thought to bring something to put this hair in."

Ron grins at me. "Are you an Auror or not?" he demands. "Conjure something, Harry!"

"I've been thinking," Hermione says, watching me as I produce a neat little glass jar from the air. "You two still haven't gotten your Auror robes. Why don't we go and do that this afternoon? We probably won't all have another free day together for awhile."

Well, why not? I can't think of anything else I'd like to do - except stop by the Burrow and tell Ginny all about my test. Only Ginny's not there.

_"I'm sorry, Harry," she'd said, looking up at me apologetically. "But Mum practically begged me to go with them to Romania, and I didn't have the heart to tell her no. She's taking Fred's death awfully hard."_

_"It's okay," I said, putting both arms around her. "She needs you right now."_

_"I know," Ginny said. "But it's all the time we had left, isn't it? I won't see you now till our first Hogsmeade weekend in October."_

She'd asked me to let her know as soon as I finished my Auror test, too, I remember suddenly. I could send an owl, but she'll probably be back at school by the time Pig could make it to Romania. Maybe a Patronus, then. It'll have to be a short message, but that's all right.

"Harry?" Ron says. "What do you think?"

"Yeah, okay," I say. "You two go on ahead, all right? There's something I need to do first."

I wait for them to Disapparate, then pull out my wand.

**Ron**

Red looks even worse with my hair than maroon does, but I don't care. Anyway, I don't expect Aurors have to get dressed up much. I think you can mostly wear whatever you want - which in my case is going to be jeans.

Harry finishes paying for his robes and turns to face me. "Where's Hermione?" he asks.

"Next door in the bookshop," I say. "Where else? She said she'd come back over here when she was done." I glance out the window, but I don't see Hermione. Instead I see the last person in the world I want to see right now.

"Look, there's Malfoy," I say to Harry. "He's coming in here, I think."

Harry grins at me. "I'll bet he needs some new clothes," he says. "He probably ruined all the ones he had helping Filch scrub the dungeons."

We're both laughing when Malfoy walks in. He looks at us sideways, but doesn't say anything. He just starts flicking through some robes hanging on a rack.

Madam Malkin hurries up. "Can I help you?" she asks coldly. She's not being anywhere near as friendly as she was to us - or even as friendly as she would have been to Malfoy a year or two ago.

"I need some robes for business," Malfoy says, not bothering to look round at her.

"For the Ministry?" Madam Malkin says, obviously surprised. "Which Department?"

"The Office of Magical Transportation," Malfoy says. He looks at me and Harry again, and this time he smirks.

"They must have been hard up to hire _him_," I say to Harry.

"Not as hard up as the Aurors," Malfoy says, turning back to the robes.

I start to answer, but Harry puts his hand on my arm. "Come on," he says in a low voice.

"He must be lying," I say, once we're outside. "The Ministry'd never hire Malfoy. Kingsley wouldn't allow it."

"Kingsley might not know," Harry says. "Hundreds of people work for the Ministry - they can't possibly consult him on every one."

"Well, we can tell him and he'll settle Malfoy," I say, starting across the street. If I don't go and drag Hermione out of that bookshop we'll be standing here all afternoon.

"Let's not," Harry says slowly. "He might be up to something."

All the more reason to get him fired, if you ask me. Harry could be right - after all, it doesn't make sense that Draco Malfoy would want to work, especially for what sounds like one of the most boring Departments - but I'd just as soon not wait around to find out.

"We'll just keep an eye on him for a bit, all right?" Harry says, before I can answer. "If I catch him at anything I promise I'll go straight to Kingsley."

"How're we supposed to watch Malfoy when we're learning how to be Aurors?" I say.

"Just in our spare time," Harry says. "Hermione can help - she'll be in the office a lot more than we will."

I don't even want to know what Hermione's going to say to that. She wanted to be done with this sort of thing. "Okay," I say. "But you've got to be the one to tell her."

**Harry**

I try to take a nap after dinner, but it feels like I've only just managed to doze off when Hermione's tapping at my door.

"I've brought the Polyjuice Potion," she says, handing me a flask. "Have you got clothes to change into?"

I'm already wearing Muggle clothes. "These ought to be all right," I say. "I made sure to pick out someone who was about my size." I add his hair to the flask and we both watch as it turns the Potion a pale-green shade.

"That doesn't look too bad," Hermione says. "He must be a nice-enough sort."

As long as it passes with Robards, I don't much care what sort of Muggle he is. "Don't drink it all at once," Hermione warns. "You don't know how long you'll be out."

Good point. I take a healthy swallow and put the stopper back into the flask. At once I feel the familiar sensation - it's like I'm going to be sick, and then…

"Excellent," Hermione says approvingly. "He'll never recognize you."

I look past her into the mirror. A fair-haired man of about thirty stares back at me. I was right about the clothes, although my sleeves are a little too short. I push them up. Good enough.

"I'll be off, then," I say, putting the flask carefully into my pocket. I've got the Cloak, too, just in case.

Ron comes out of the sitting room as I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Wish I was going with you," he says, but he doesn't look as though he means it. He's got a glass of wine in his hand and they've got a nice fire going in the sitting room. No doubt he and Hermione are planning a cozy evening together.

"Good luck, Harry!" Hermione says, slipping her arm around Ron's waist.

I step outside - gotten colder, hasn't it? - and Disapparate.

I have a moment of panic, wondering how Robards and I are supposed to recognize each other if we're both in disguise, but it turns out I needn't have worried. Robards has changed from his red robes into a plain black cloak, but that's as much of a disguise as he's bothered with.

I stop in front of him. "Er, hello," I say.

Robards looks me over. "Potter?" he asks at last.

I nod. "Prove it," Robards says.

"My name is Harry James Potter, and I passed my Auror's Entrance exam this morning," I say. "I think I got all of the questions on the written part right except for the one about Gamp's Law. Oh, and maybe the one about the proper way to decant poisons - I might have got that wrong as well."

"You did," Robards says, not smiling. "Poisons and antidotes are an essential part of your training. Read up on the subject, if necessary."

"I will," I say quickly. I wait, but Robards is still staring at me.

"You have not yet ascertained my identity," he reminds me finally.

Oh. Right. Mind, nothing he says is going to prove anything one way or the other, seeing as the only two things I know about Robards are that he's head of the Auror Department and that he doesn't seem to want me there. I'll have to ask him a question. "Er, why didn't you come to Tonks' funeral?" I blurt out without thinking. I stare at Robards, horrified. I don't know where that came from. I didn't even know I was thinking it.

"Sorry," I say quickly. "I didn't mean - "

Robards looks past me at the brick wall of the Leaky Cauldron. "Nymphadora Tonks was very special to me," he says quietly. "I didn't attend her funeral because I couldn't bear to see them put her into the ground."

He cuts me off as I'm about to apologize again. "Shall we go?" he says.

I follow him into Diagon Alley. "We'll Disapparate from here," Robards says. "As I prefer not to speak the name of our destination out loud - and since you have not yet mastered the art of Legilimency - I shall ask you to take my arm."

He holds out his arm as he speaks and I rest my hand on it, a bit tentatively. Robards turns without asking if I'm ready, and I feel everything start to close in around me. And then suddenly I can breathe again.

"Where are we?" I whisper, looking around. The place looks oddly familiar, and yet I'm sure I've never here before.

"We are near a street called Spinner's End," Robards answers. He sees my startled look and adds, "I see that you recognize the name."

"Yeah," I say. "It's where Sn-"

"Don't say it aloud!" Robards says sharply. He glances around and then gestures to me to follow him.

**Ron**

"And this is our supply closet," Perdita says, opening another door.

"Closet" seems to be a bit of an understatement. The room she leads me into is lined floor-to-ceiling with shelves.

"Those are disguises over there," Perdita says, pointing to a several boxes with numbered labels. "And these - " she points her wand at a cabinet, unlocking it - "these are to put into Polyjuice Potion."

The cabinet's full of small jars. I move closer so I can read the labels. They've all got numbers on, too. "They match up with the clothes," Perdita explains. "Or they're supposed to. You get the occasional surprise."

"But how do you know what they are?" I ask. "I mean, suppose I need to look like a Muggle man. Is that number twenty-five or number twelve or what?"

"All the ones that start with ones are Muggle women," Perdita says. "The twos are Muggle men; the threes are witches, and the fours are wizards. The numbers go up by age - you know, a one-two is a Muggle woman in her twenties, for instance. You'll soon catch on."

I hope so. I've never been all that good at memorizing things. Still, I don't reckon they'll let me in here on my own right off.

"And that's all, really," Perdita says. "Fancy a bit of lunch before we go?"

"Okay," I say. "Er - go where?"

Perdita grins at me. "Top-secret mission," she says. "We've got to visit the closed ward at St. Mungo's and see if a Death Eater named Avery has really lost his memory as he's claimed, or if he's just faking it to stay out of Azkaban."

"Faking it," I say at once. "I know Avery."

"Do you?" Perdita says. "Maybe you ought to wear a disguise, then. I'd forgotten you were so well-known."

"I'm not, really," I say. "Harry's the one that gets recognized. Still, I reckon it wouldn't hurt to disguise myself. Most everyone knows I'm a Weasley on account of my hair."

"You look a lot like Arthur," Perdita says. "Not much like your brother Charlie, though - I went to school with him."

That means she's quite a bit older than I thought. Hermione'll be relieved to hear that - maybe. It's hard to tell with Hermione.

"I had an awful crush on Charlie during fourth year," Perdita says, giggling. "I got over it when I met Marvin, though."

"Who's Marvin?" I ask.

"My fiancé," Perdita says, holding out her left hand to show me a tiny diamond. "He's still doing his Healer training, but he'll finish in June and then we can get married."

Hermione's _definitely_ going to like the sound of that.

"What happened to the girl who was with you last year?" Perdita's asking. "The Muggle-born one?"

"Hermione Granger," I say. "She's my girlfriend. She's going to work for the House-Elf Relocation Office."

"Oh, good," Perdita says happily. "I've been dying to meet her. Do you think the four of us could go for drinks one night?"

"Yeah, why not?" I say. I lean forward and lift a jar labeled "3 - 6" from the shelf. "This'd be a wizard in his sixties, right?"

"Good memory," Perdita says approvingly.

Lucky guess is more like it. Wait'll she gets a chance to talk to Hermione.

"I think it'd look better if we were both sort of old, don't you?" I say. "There's nothing suspicious about a couple of old dears visiting in a hospital."

Perdita laughs and reaches for a jar of her own. "Ron, you're a natural at this," she says.

**Hermione**

Wilton Sikes is nowhere in sight - and neither is Miranda - when I arrive at a quarter to nine on Monday morning.

Miranda finally wanders in a few minutes after nine. "Oh, hello," she say offhandedly. "Come on, I'll show you where you're going to sit."

I notice she isn't apologizing for making me wait. Maybe she forgot about me. I follow her down a corridor crowded with filing cabinets to a small door labeled "House-Elf Relocation Office." Inside there are two desks, a couple of chairs, and yet more filing cabinets.

"Take whichever desk you like," Miranda says.

I look at her, surprised. "Doesn't anyone else work here?" I ask.

"Not right now," Miranda says cryptically. She opens one of the cabinets and hands me a folder. "Here, read through this lot. It'll tell you what you're supposed to be doing. I'll send for you when Wilton shows up, and he can walk you through the rest of it."

I wonder just what time _that's_ going to be, but decide I'd better not ask. "All right," I say, sitting down at the nearest desk. "Thanks."

By ten o'clock I've read through the folder three times. Contrary to what Miranda said, it tells me absolutely nothing about my job duties. It's nothing but some literature on the various branches of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I set it aside and look at my desk again. I find some spare parchment in one of the drawers and center it neatly, with my quill and ink next to it. Maybe my quill would look better on the other side… oh, this is ridiculous. I get up and go in search of Miranda.

She's not at her desk, though. No one seems to be around. Defeated, I return to the House-Elf Relocation office. There must be something I can find to do. I look thoughtfully at the filing cabinets. I wonder if I ought to look in there. Supposing there's something private in the files?

"It's your office, isn't it?" I remind myself firmly.

The cabinets, however, are empty. So much for that idea. I sit back down at the desk and pick up my quill. "Hermione Granger", I write, and then (because I can't resist) "Hermione Weasley". Hmmm. "Hermione Granger-Weasley"… no, Ron wouldn't like that. Anyway, we're far too young to think about marriage, and Ron hasn't even mentioned the word, although we have talked about how many children we want to have (two), and where we want to live (in the country), so surely that means -

"Good morning," a voice says from the doorway. I look up to find Wilton Sikes watching me.

"Good morning," I say, hastily crumpling the parchment and setting it aside. I can feel myself blushing.

Sikes takes no notice, fortunately. "Sorry to leave you alone on your first morning," he says. "Diggory called a Department Head meeting, and it went on and on. He likes the sound of his own voice, Amos. Anyway, it gave you a chance to settle in."

"Yes," I say, although I don't feel particularly settled. "Er, Mr. Sikes?"

"Wilton," he says, covering a yawn with his hand.

"Wilton," I repeat. "Doesn't anyone else work here? I mean, I haven't seen anyone except you and Miranda, and this was obviously someone's office before…"

"Oh," Sikes says. "The truth is, we're a bit short-staffed at the moment. Actually - " he yawns again. "Most of 'em are in Azkaban. All Thicknesse's appointees, you see. They forced out most of the former employees when they took over. We're trying to get people back, but it hasn't been easy."

"Were you here before?" I can't help asking.

Sikes nods. "I'm a pureblood," he says, almost apologetically. "So's Miranda. That's the only reason they let us stay on. It was pretty awful, mind - if I hadn't got three young ones at home I'd never have stuck it out." He sighs. "I can't explain it, really - you'd have to have been here."

I was here (although not as myself), but I can't exactly explain that to him. "So the House-Elf Relocation Office…" I say.

"Yes," Sikes says. "Well, you're it, actually. Well, there's Damaris, of course, but I'm not sure when she'll be back." He smiles at me. "Hope you don't mind - I think you'll find the work easy enough. It's mostly just a matter of finding places for house-elves who've nowhere to go."

I'd gathered that much. "Where are they?" I ask. "The house-elves who need relocating, I mean."

Sikes waves his hand vaguely at the filing cabinets. I get up and open one drawer after another to show him. "They're all empty," I say patiently.

Sikes stares blankly for a minute, and then chuckles. "Merlin's beard, I'd forgotten," he says cheerfully. "They're in there - just invisible. It's standard security procedure - although I can't think why we bother here."

_"Specialus revelio,"_ I say briskly, flicking my wand at the open drawer. A number of hanging file folders appear at once.

"There you are, then," Sikes says. "I'll leave you to get on with it, shall I?"

It's clear I'm not going to get much help from him. Never mind - I'll just sort through this lot and see if I can figure it out for myself. "Yes, all right," I say.

Sikes starts back out. "If there's anything at all I can do, you have only to ask," he says over his shoulder.

I look uncertainly at the files when he's gone, hoping that the unknown Damaris doesn't mind when - and if - she gets back. Well, I've got to do something, don't I? I reach into the drawer and pull out a file at random. Goodness, it's labeled "Winky". Mr. Crouch's Winky? I sit down at my desk and open it eagerly.

**Draco**

"Broom Regulatory Control?" I say. "_That's_ where I'm going to work?"

The witch showing me round - Madam Edgecombe, I think she said - frowns at me. I suppose I didn't exactly sound thrilled.

"You can hardly expect to start at the top, with no work experience and no NEWTs," she says reprovingly. "If you work hard, I'm sure you'll be able to advance at an appropriate level."

Great. Maybe I can move on to something _really_ exciting, like Portkeys.

"Where are the brooms?" I ask, looking around. All I see are a bunch of people sitting at desks writing on parchment.

"You won't test the actual brooms," Edgecombe says, still tight-lipped. "That's handled by more senior staff. Your function is to inspect these broom-maintenance manuals and ensure that each and every one is complete."

She can't be serious. Sit all day looking at a lot of boring manuals? I'll go mad.

"I'll give you a quick tour of the building, and then you can get to work," Edgecombe says briskly. "Hobart here will answer any questions you might have about the work." She nods at a short, bald bloke who looks like he's absolutely thrilled to have the most boring job ever created.

"Certainly, anything you need," Hobart says and immediately goes back to looking at the manual in front of him like it's the most fascinating bit of literature he's ever come across.

I try to walk slowly and ask lots of questions while Edgecombe's showing me round - anything to put off the moment when I'll have to go back and actually _work_ - but I can tell she doesn't like me much. I'm not sure if it's because of who I am or because I'm not an idiot like bloody Hobart. Anyway, she's not my "primary contact", that's for sure.

We're just crossing the lobby when Edgecombe stops so suddenly that I nearly walk into her. "Sorry," I say when she glares at me, even though it was quite obviously her fault. "Is something wrong?"

"That girl," Edgecombe hisses. "I can't believe they've gone and hired _her_."

I try to look over her shoulder, but there are so many people in the lobby that I can't tell who she means. "What girl?" I ask.

"Hermione Granger," Edgecombe says, looking like she can barely stand to pronounce the name. "Oh, that I'd ever see the day! And after what she did to my daughter… oh, she ought to be in Azkaban for what she did to an innocent girl!"

I couldn't agree more, even though I haven't a clue what she's talking about. "Your daughter?" I say. Was her daughter a Death Eater? Maybe I was wrong - maybe Madam Edgecombe is on the right side after all.

"My Marietta," Edgecombe says. "Oh, she was a lovely girl - until that little Granger beast got hold of her." She turns and looks at me. "Maybe you'd remember her," she says. "You look to be about the same age."

Marietta Edgecombe… oh, she's _that_ one. I hadn't made the connection. "I think I do remember her," I say, deliberately vague. It's pretty hard to forget a girl with the word "Sneak" spelled out across her face in big purple spots, isn't it? "Er, wasn't she a Ravenclaw?"

Edgecombe nods. "She's never been the same since," she says, almost tearfully. "I can't believe nothing happened to that Granger girl."

"She was one of Dumbledore's pets," I say. "I never could stand her myself - she was an awful little know-it-all. But she was tight with Potter, so she got away with practically everything."

"Oh, Harry Potter," Edgecombe says dismissively. "Mind you, I wasn't there myself, so I don't know - but it seems to me that a boy of his age would hardly be capable of destroying You-Know-Who all on his own. I'm sure the story's been greatly exaggerated."

All of a sudden I feel as though I'm going to get on with Madam Edgecombe just fine. "I think you're absolutely right," I say, giving her my best smile. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Harry**

I'm drenched to the skin by the time I get home. "Master must go in and sit by the fire," Kreacher says, taking my dripping cloak. "And Kreacher will bring him some hot tea, sir!"

I go obediently into the sitting room to find Ron stretched out asleep on the sofa with his head on Hermione's lap. Hermione's reading, with her book propped up against Ron's back. They've obviously spent a nice, cozy afternoon by the fire, judging by the tea cups, the empty plates, and the chess pieces scattered about the room. I can't help feeling a bit resentful when I compare it to my own wet miserable day with the silent Robards.

Hermione smiles, but holds a warning finger to her lips when I come in. Like anything but an earthquake would wake Ron up - she ought to know that by now.

"He's got to get up anyway," I say, shaking Ron by the shoulder. "It's his turn to keep watch."

Ron opens his eyes and looks at me blankly. "What time is it?" he says.

"It's not his turn yet," Hermione protests, looking at her watch. "He's got hours still."

"Not anymore," I say. "Robards got called off on some other mission - he _said_ - so he told me to go home and send Ron in my place. Perdita's already there." Personally, I think Robards was just tired of standing about in the rain, but I didn't argue the point. I'd pretty well had my fill of it, too.

Ron sits up, yawning. "Anything?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Bloody waste of time, if you ask me," Ron says. He leans past me and peers unenthusiastically out the window.

"You'd better put a warmer sweater on," Hermione says to him. "I'll put an Impervious Charm on your cloak. And Harry, you'd better go and change out of those wet things."

I follow Ron up the stairs.

"You're an Auror," I say, a bit nastily. "Can't you manage an Impervious Charm yet?"

"Course I can," Ron says, refusing to rise to my bad mood. "I just let Hermione do it because she likes looking after me." He looks slightly smug as he says this.

I give up and go into my own room to change. Ron's at the front door when I come back down again.

"Don't wait up," he says, kissing Hermione. "Unless you _want_ to, that is." A minute later he's gone.

Hermione's already picked up her book again when I go back into the sitting room. "Kreacher's brought your tea," she says, not raising her eyes from the page. She'll probably read all evening, since Ron's not here.

I pour myself a cup of tea and move to the window, staring out. It's raining so hard I can barely see anything.

"Eat something," Hermione says, still not looking up. "It'll make you feel better."

"I'm not _Ron_," I say.

Hermione puts her book down and looks at me. "I know you're not," she says calmly. "Harry, what on earth is wrong?"

I drop into a chair and reach for a sandwich from the tray Kreacher left me. "I dunno," I say. "Robards, mostly. He won't tell me anything about what we're doing - it's like I'm just some stupid kid. No matter what I say, he tells me we've got to follow the 'established procedures'. Well, the established procedures didn't do us much good against Voldemort, did they?"

"I know," Hermione says sympathetically. "It must be hard to deal with. But look at it from his point of view. I expect he feels a bit threatened by you."

I almost choke on the bite of sandwich I'm eating. _"Robards?"_ I say, when I can manage to talk again. "Threatened by _me_?"

Hermione nods. "You said it yourself," she points out. "We were the ones who destroyed all the Horcruxes - three unqualified kids. And you were the one who finished Voldemort - something he never managed as head of the Auror Department. He's probably afraid you're after his job."

"I'm not," I say, gaping at her. "I just want to be an Auror - I don't want to run the place."

"Robards doesn't know that," Hermione says. "Oh, and there's also that little matter of Kingsley - his former employee - being his boss now. _That_ can't have gone over very well."

That much I knew. "So what do I do?" I ask.

Hermione considers. "Ask his advice about things," she offers after a moment. "Make suggestions if you have to, but let him think it was his idea."

"It sounds worse than dating," I protest. "Why can't I just tell him straight out that I'm not after his bloody job?"

Hermione sighs. "Harry, that's the worst thing you could do," she says firmly.

I finish my sandwich, thinking about what she said. Maybe she's right, but I don't like the idea of just playing along with Robards.

**Ron**

Our assignment is to watch Archer Crabbe's house round the clock and grab him if he tries to come out. From what I've heard, Crabbe isn't much brighter than his son was, but I reckon even _he's_ not dumb enough to try anything when there are two Aurors sitting on the ledge outside his front door. We've done Disillusionment Charms, but they're not much good, if you ask me. I can see Perdita if I look hard enough, and I'm sure she can see me, too. It might fool the Muggles walking by, but I'll bet Archer Crabbe knows we're here. Some woman - Mrs. Crabbe, I guess - keeps peering out the window at us, but I haven't seen Crabbe yet.

This is pretty much what we've been doing all week. Robards got really annoyed with Perdita for taking me to St. Mungo's - evidently it was too complicated for a stupid trainee like me to handle. Mind, we caught Avery right enough - and it was all my idea. Once we got into the closed ward, I started talking to Perdita really loudly about our (imaginary) grandson who was in Hufflepuff, and how they were bound to win the House Cup. "Do you know," I said to her. "Slytherin's never won it - not once, in all these years?" Avery couldn't stand it. He came storming over and listed all of the years that Slytherin _had_ won the Cup - and then he remembered that he was supposed to have lost his memory, but it was too late. Perdita arrested him on the spot. But Robards wouldn't even listen when she tried to explain. He assigned us to watch Crabbe's house, and that's what we've done ever since.

Hermione's Impervious Charm is a good one, but it doesn't help the bits of me that aren't covered by my cloak. Plus the temperature's dropped about twenty degrees since we got here two hours ago.

"This is stupid," I say to Perdita. "He's not going to come out while we're here. At least if we were really invisible there'd be some point to all this."

Perdita shrugs. "I don't think Gawain _wants_ him to come out," she says. "If he stays put, we know where he is. He's sort of under house arrest this way."

"The Death Eaters did the same thing to us last fall when we were hiding at Grimmauld Place," I say. "Only what they didn't know was that we were going in and out all the time under Harry's Invisibility Cloak."

Perdita looks up, interested. "Was that before you went off in the tent?" she asks. I've told her bits and pieces of what we did last year - it helps pass the time.

"We were watching the Ministry, trying to see how we could get in," I explain. "Umbridge had the locket, and that was the only way we could think of to get it back."

"The locket - that was one of the Horcruxes, wasn't it?" Perdita says.

I nod. I still don't like thinking about the locket much.

"Well, don't leave me hanging," Perdita says after a minute. "_Did_ you manage to get into the Ministry? And how on earth did you do it?"

I launch into the story. It's dark out by the time I've finished, and I can see lights going on in the Crabbes' house. Mrs. Crabbe pulls back the sitting room curtains and glares out at us again. She's no beauty, is she?

"Imagine being married to _that_," Perdita says cheerfully. "You can almost understand why Crabbe turned to the dark side."

"His son wasn't much better," I say. "We were at school with him."

"The son was killed in the battle, wasn't he?" Perdita says vaguely.

"Not exactly," I say, leaving it at that. I'm only up to telling one long story at a time.

"You're right about one thing, she can definitely see us," Perdita says, still looking at Mrs. Crabbe. "I wish the Ministry'd get us some proper Invisibility Cloaks, but Gawain says it's not in the budget."

"My brother might be able to come up with something," I offer, remembering the Invisibility Hats from the joke shop. "He's got a shop in Diagon Alley - it's brilliant."

"Let's go and see him, then," Perdita says, squeezing the water from her cloak. "Let's see - tomorrow's our day off…"

"I can't do it tomorrow," I say. "It's Hermione's birthday. I might see George at my parents' house, though - my mum's planning a big birthday dinner."

"Your parents must really like her," Perdita says, a bit wistfully.

"Well, yeah," I say, a bit surprised. "Don't your family like Marvin?"

"I don't see my family," Perdita says shortly.

This is another time when Hermione would have pressed for more information, but I can tell Perdita doesn't really want to talk about it. "I still haven't met your Hermione," she says brightly after a few silent minutes. "Will we have that drink next week? We'll both be on day shifts."

"Yeah, why not?" I say. "What about - er - Wednesday?"

"Wednesday it is," Perdita says happily. "Oh, look - the lights are going out. The Crabbes must be going to bed."

"Wish I was," I say gloomily, looking at my watch. The next pair of Aurors isn't due to relieve us till midnight.

**Hermione**

Harry seems to feel better now that we've talked. "I know it's difficult," I say. "Ron's a bit frustrated, too - especially since he did so well on his first assignment. But it's only for this first year, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry says. "But if we don't do anything besides sit outside bloody Crabbe's house, it's going to be an awfully long year."

"I don't think our new jobs have turned out the way any of us expected," I admit. "I know mine hasn't."

Harry looks up, surprised. "Don't you like it?" he asks. "It's house-elves, like you wanted."

"I know," I say. "It's just - well, _frustrating._"

There wasn't anything much in poor Winky's file. It just said she'd been dismissed for disobedience, and then there was a note saying Dumbledore had taken her in at Hogwarts. There wasn't a word about how she'd helped Mr. Crouch hide his son, which surprised me.

I went through the other files after that. Unfortunately, I'm finding out that what Kreacher told me is true - most people don't want a house-elf that's been given clothes. And the ones that do - well, the less said about _them_, the better. I turned away a dozen applicants yesterday after they all failed my preliminary interviews. Well, never mind. It may take a bit longer this way, but I refuse to send these poor elves off to homes where they won't be treated kindly.

Harry looks at me a bit anxiously when I've finished explaining. "I'm not saying it isn't a good idea, interviewing them," he says. "But you can't reject _all_ of the applicants, Hermione. What's your boss going to say?"

Now he sounds like Ron. "Wilton's not awake long enough to say much of anything," I tell him. "And when he is, he certainly doesn't take much interest in the House-Elf Relocation office." I've spoken to him exactly twice since my first day. Both times he just said "Good morning" and vanished into his office - late for a nap, no doubt.

The mysterious Damaris still hasn't made an appearance. I finally got up the nerve to ask Miranda about her, and she told me that Damaris was a "spoiled rich girl" who only works when she feels like it. Evidently her family's given quite a bit of gold to the Ministry, and that's the only reason they put up with her. In any case, I don't suppose she'll bother me much. She sounds rather like the sort who comes in for a few minutes before lunch and then takes the afternoon off to go shopping.

"I think I'll go to bed," Harry says, yawning. "You don't mind, do you?"

I shake my head. "I might wait up a bit longer and see if Ron comes in," I say. "It's stopped raining, anyway."

**Harry**

"I nearly forgot to tell you," Hermione says as I'm leaving the sitting room. "I saw Draco Malfoy at the Ministry yesterday."

I turn and come back into the room. "You did? What was he doing?" I ask.

"Getting on to the lift," Hermione says. "He didn't see me, and I didn't particularly want to talk to him, so I just waited and took the next one."

And wasted a perfect opportunity to find out what he's up to. I don't believe for a second that Malfoy has any interest in the Department of Magical Transportation, other than using it to cover up his real purpose. "I wonder what his job is," I say restlessly.

"Well, I can tell you that," Hermione says. "I asked Miranda, and she said he'd been assigned to the proofreading section in the Broom Regulatory Control office."

I stare at her blankly. "How do you proofread a broom?" I ask.

Hermione giggles. "You don't," she says. "It's the maintenance manuals that come with them."

Now I'm more convinced than ever. Malfoy'd never stand for doing something as boring as that unless he had a really good reason. "Look, Hermione," I say cajolingly. "If you see him again, just - just say hello or something, all right? Maybe ask him how he likes his job."

Hermione looks dubious. "Please," I add.

"All right," Hermione says. I can tell she's hoping she doesn't run into him any time soon.

"Well, good night!" I say quickly, before she can change her mind.

So Malfoy's reading broom maintenance manuals, is he? Must've been a real come-down for him. Still, it's proof he's there to make trouble - he'd never have accepted a position like that if he didn't have some urgent reason to be in the Ministry. Well, it'll give me something to think about during my next shift watching Archer Crabbe's house. I need plenty to occupy my mind, seeing as Robards never speaks to me except to give orders. He's never mentioned what happened that night, either.

I wish I could tell Hermione and Ron about that night at Snape's house - although I'm not sure if they could make any more sense out of it than I did. But Robards warned me against it. "You will not breathe a word of this to anyone," he said, glaring at me. "Be warned - I shall know if you do."

I'm not confident enough of my abilities with Occlumency to think I could keep it from him if I _did_ tell - so I haven't. But surely if I wait a few more weeks he'll have forgotten about it. Anyway, nothing much happened - at least, not as far as I could tell.

It was strange, going into Snape's old house. Even though I knew he was dead, I half-expected him to pounce on me as soon as I went in. The whole place had a closed-up feeling, like no one had been there in months, and the dust was heavy on the books and the furniture.

"Guard the entrance," Robards said to me. He nodded toward the front door and I went reluctantly to stand by it. There wasn't much point in doing any guarding, in my opinion - Robards had already cast all of the same protective charms that Hermione used to put around the tent - but I didn't think it was a good idea to argue with him.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Robards systematically went through every drawer, cupboard and shelf in the entire place. When he finished that, he began pulling books from the shelves and leafing through each one.

"If you'd tell me what you're looking for," I said when I couldn't stand it anymore, "Maybe I could help you."

Robards put down the book in his hand and glared at me. I expected him to yell at me, but he didn't. "How well did you know Severus Snape?" he asked instead.

I shrugged. "I don't think anyone really knew him _well_," I said. "Except maybe Dumbledore, and even he - "

"Yes, of course," Robards said impatiently. "But did you know anything about him? Did he ever go on holiday, for instance?"

_"Snape?"_ I said, and laughed. I couldn't help it. "I don't think he went anywhere except Hogwarts. But if you're looking for something of his, it's more likely to be there than it is here."

"We have already conducted a thorough search of Hogwarts," Robards said. "The item I am seeking was not there." He sighed and turned from the bookcase. "Nor, it would seem, is it here. It is getting late, Mr. Potter. We must go."

We went back outside - that's when he warned me against telling anyone where we'd been - and he told me to go straight home, which I did. I thought he'd fill me in a bit more the next day, but he never did. The very next morning we started watching Archer Crabbe's house and that's all we've done since. And I'm getting so tired of it that I'm ready to set a cage of pixies loose in the Crabbes' sitting room just to see what would happen.

Malfoy, I remind myself, climbing into bed. First chance I get, I'm going to wander over to the Department of Magical Transportation and see what I can find out. Just as I'm drifting off to sleep, I find myself wondering if what Robards was looking for has any connection to Draco Malfoy - and if that's what Malfoy really wants with the Ministry of Magic.

**Draco**

Proofreading broom maintenance manuals turned out to be every bit as boring as it sounded - maybe even more. The only thing in the world more boring is Hobart, the bloke who's been assigned to train me.

"Read through these and circle any errors you find with red ink," he said, handing me a stack of booklets with "Caring For Your New Broom" written on the front. "Then put them in that basket there for the Correctors."

Whatever. "Then what?" I'd asked.

Hobart looked startled. "Then you get another stack, of course," he said. "Only I hardly think you'll get through that lot today. It takes a seasoned worker like myself to _really_ keep them busy." He'd nodded toward the group on the other side of the room - the "correctors", presumably. One of them, a dark-haired witch who looked like she might still be fairly young, had glanced up at that and given Hobart a look of positive dislike. That perked me up a bit.

Hobart went back to his proofreading and I picked up the first manual and flipped through it. It all looked right to me - I mean, what kind of idiot can't figure out how to take care of a broom? - so I chucked it in the basket labeled "No Changes Necessary" and went on to the next.

"Are you finished already?" Hobart said suspiciously. "You can't have done it properly. _Accio_ booklet!"

"There, you see?" he'd said triumphantly a moment later. "You missed a comma there - and they've misspelled 'twig'; they've put 'twit' instead." He shook his finger at me. "It won't do at all, Draco," he said chidingly.

"What did you say, Hobart?" I said loudly. "Did you just call yourself a twit?"

The dark-haired girl giggled, but the others all looked horrified. "There'll be none of that if you want to get on here," Hobart said prissily. He threw the booklet back at me. "Here. Start over - and do it properly this time."

I would've told him just where he could put that booklet, but I didn't know how much influence he'd got with old Edgecombe. I couldn't face Rodolphus if I lost my job the first day - especially since I still hadn't figured out who my primary contact was. I picked up the booklet and started over. Hobart watched me for a few minutes and then went back to his own work.

I looked up after a bit and found the dark-haired girl staring at me. She grinned and winked at me when I caught her eye and then went back to her own work. Her name's Clarissa, but that's all I've been able to find out about her. She never taks to me, but at least she's something attractive to look at.

**Ron**

Hermione's asleep on the sofa with Crookshanks when I come in. She stirs slightly when I take the book from her hand.

"I meant to wait up for you," she says sleepily. "How was it?"

"Cold, wet and boring," I say truthfully, sitting down next to her. Crookshanks gives me an annoyed look and jumps down. He's not exactly my biggest fan.

"Your hands are freezing," Hermione says, taking them in hers to warm them. "Didn't Crabbe even try to come out?"

"No, and what's more, they know we're there," I say. "It's a waste of time, watching them."

"Well, never mind, you're off tomorrow," Hermione says consolingly.

That reminds me. "It's after midnight," I say. "Happy birthday." I lean over and kiss her. "Want your present?"

Hermione looks surprised. "Have you got it here?" she asks.

"_Accio_ Hermione's present," I say, pulling out my wand. A minute later it comes zooming down the stairs at us. "Here you are," I say, handing it over. I wish I wasn't crap at wrapping things, but never mind - it's covered, anyway.

It's not much - a book called "A House-Elf's Tale" that I found in a secondhand shop - but Hermione's thrilled. It's supposed to have been written by a house-elf - well, dictated by one, anyway. I don't think they know how to write. It's the sort of thing that would bore me into a coma, but I knew Hermione would like it. I wanted to get her something really nice - like that ring Harry gave Ginny - but we haven't even gotten our first pay yet. Anyway, Hermione seems pleased.

"It's perfect," she says, flinging her arms around my neck. You'd think I'd just given her a diamond necklace or something. "And it means a lot to me that you thought to pick it out. It means you really do understand how I feel about things."

I can't help thinking that she's giving me a lot more credit than I deserve - I mean, I love her and all, but I _definitely_ don't understand her most of the time. Still, I'm not about to argue. Especially not when she's kissing me like that.

**Hermione**

Almost the entire Weasley family's gathered at the Burrow when we get there - even Ginny, much to my surprise.

"Happy birthday, Hermione!" she says, hugging me.

"What're you doing here?" Ron asks her. "Been expelled already?"

Ginny makes a face at him. "It just so happens that I was given special permission from Professor McGonagall to Apparate home for the day in honor of Hermione's birthday," she says loftily. "It's lucky you're such a favorite of hers, Hermione - I don't think she'd have given in if it'd been anyone else."

"It was lovely of her," I say. Ginny's looking past us out the door, trying not to be too obvious about it. "Harry'll be along in a few minutes," I say. "We left before he did."

The words have hardly left my mouth when Harry appears at the edge of the lawn. Ginny takes off without a word, and I watch as she flings her arms around his neck. "Let's go in," I say hastily to Ron. "You wanted a word with George, didn't you?"

Bill and Fleur are both in the sitting room with Mr. Weasley and George. "Where's Percy?" Ron asks, looking around. We've already agreed that we won't mention anything about our new jobs if he's there - neither of us wants any more advice.

George manages a half-smile. "I think I've finally managed to shake him off," he says. "You remember his old girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater? I sent her an owl telling her that Percy really missed her, and she's invited him to dinner."

"Nice one," Ron says approvingly. "Maybe she can talk him into going back to his old job, too."

It's the nicest birthday I've had in ages. Last year we were in hiding, and all the other years I've been at school. I miss Mum and Dad, of course, but the Weasleys and Harry are almost like my own family by now. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley both look quite a bit older - Fred's death was hard on them - but they're obviously trying hard to be in a festive mood.

Mrs. Weasley absolutely refuses to let me help her with dinner. "Not on your birthday, dear!" she says. "Although I could certainly use Ginny's help - I can't think where she's got to."

"She's talking to Harry, I think," I say, a bit evasively. I'm not sure how much actual talking is going on.

Mrs. Weasley sighs and wipes her eyes. "I expect she's missing Fred," she says. "The twins always did spoil her."

Mrs. Weasley doesn't seem to have any idea that Ginny and Harry's relationship isn't exactly that of brother and sister. "Yes, I'm sure she is," I say shamelessly. "Are you sure I can't help you?"

"I'll be just fine," Mrs. Weasley says firmly, flicking her wand at a pot on the stove. "Sit down and tell me about your new job. Are you happy?"

"The work's not exactly what I expected, but yes - I'm happy," I say. I can't resist glancing in the direction of the sitting room, where I can hear Ron telling his father and brothers about the Auror exam.

Mrs. Weasley smiles at me. "Arthur and I are pleased, too, dear," she says. "We've always thought of you as a daughter."

Oh my goodness. "Mrs. Weasley, we're not - I mean, you don't think-" I say, confused.

"No, of course not," Mrs. Weasley says quickly. "Not _yet_, at any rate." She smiles again, a bit wistfully. "I was just eighteen when I married Arthur," she says. "Mind, things were different in those days. You have all the time in the world now."

Ginny and Harry don't reappear until we're almost ready to sit down to dinner. " - proofreading maintenance manuals," I hear Harry saying as they walk in. "Now tell me that's not suspicious!"

"You're not still on about Malfoy, are you?" I say.

"Malfoy?" Bill asks, raising an eyebrow. "Are you talking about Lucius?"

"No, his son," Harry explains. "He's taken a menial sort of job in the Broom Regulatory Control office, and - well, I think he's up to something."

"Not in that office, he isn't," Mr. Weasley says. "Madam Edgecombe runs a pretty tight ship."

Ron and I exchange glances. "Edgecombe?" I say, a bit nervously.

Ron grins at me. "Better stay as far away from that office as you can, Hermione!" he says.

Well, good. That means I won't have to go anywhere near Draco Malfoy.

"Harry's right," Bill's saying. "It doesn't make sense that Lucius would let his only son and heir work - especially at a job like that. The Malfoys have always considered themselves above that sort of thing."

"Maybe they're having trouble making ends meet," Mrs. Weasley offers. "It must have been expensive, putting together a defense like he did!"

"Buying all those people off, you mean," Bill says. "Don't worry about the Malfoys, Mum - there's plenty more gold where that came from."

"Well, we don't need to talk about the Malfoys on Hermione's birthday," Mrs. Weasley says firmly. She smiles at me. "Tell me, dear, did you hear from your mum and dad yet?"

"I got a lovely card, and they sent me some money as well," I say. "Mum says I'm to use it for clothes - I guess she didn't think much of the ones I wore to Australia. Only I really don't need much, working at the Ministry."

"I'm sure she meant a special outfit, dear," Mrs. Weasley says. "Something to wear when you get dressed up."

Which is _when_, exactly? Unless there's another wedding coming up, I can't see the point.

"You can get something for Seamus's club opening," George says unexpectedly. "He's having it New Year's Eve - he stopped in the shop to tell us about it yesterday."

Goodness, I'd forgotten about Seamus and his club. "There you are, then," Ron says, patting my arm. "I'll even help you pick it out."

He will _not_. I've been shopping for clothes with him once, and that was more than enough, thank you. "We'll see," I say, deliberately vague.

"I weel go shopping with 'Ermione," Fleur says, smiling at me. "I 'ave excellent taste!"

Oh dear. That's worse than having Ron, isn't it? Still, she's trying to be nice, so I manage a rather weak smile in return.

"Lee stopped in, too," George is saying to Harry. "He's quite looking forward to having you on his program. I didn't let on that I already knew everything you were going to say."

"What's this?" Mr. Weasley asks. "You're going to be on Lee's program, Harry?"

Harry nods. "It seemed like a good way to get it all over with at once," he says. "Maybe Rita Skeeter and all those people will let me alone after that."

Bill snorts. "I wouldn't count on it!" he says.

Mr. Weasley's frowning. "You've cleared it with Gawain Robards, of course?" he says to Harry.

Harry looks startled. "I never said a word to him about it," he says. "You don't think he'll mind, do you? He already knows everything that happened - so does Kingsley."

"Well, it's your decision," Mr. Weasley says quietly. "But I've known Gawain for a number of years. He doesn't take kindly to independent thinking. You might want to have a quick word with him, just in case."

"I can't back out on Lee," Harry says stubbornly. "I've already promised."

Mr. Weasley looks like he wants to say something else, but he restrains himself.

"Time for cake!" Mrs. Weasley says, dimming the lights with a flick of her wand.

Harry's interview with Lee isn't mentioned again. But I can tell he's thinking about it, just the same.

**Harry**

It's the best thing that's happened to me all week, seeing Ginny. "I've missed you," I say inadequately, when we stop for breath.

"I've missed you more," Ginny says at once, leaning her head on my shoulder. "You've been busy doing exciting Auror things and I've just been at school."

I can't help laughing. "Yeah, really exciting," I say. "Wait'll you hear how I've spent my week."

"But that's absolutely ridiculous," Ginny says indignantly, once I've filled her in. "After everything you've done - Voldemort, and the Horcruxes - and all the things you did before that, like the TriWizard Tournament and rescuing me from the Chamber and - "

"I know," I say. "I reckon it's just something I'll have to put up with, if I want to be an Auror. It's only for a year, after all." I feel a bit better, though, just hearing her say it.

"Well, Robards sounds like a prat," Ginny says decidedly. "Wait'll he really needs your help with something - I'll bet he comes running to you."

"I wouldn't count on it," I tell her. "Hermione thinks he feels threatened by me."

Ginny looks thoughtful. "Really?" she says. "Yes, I expect she's right."

I don't see it, myself. "Tell me about Hogwarts," I say. "How's your Quidditch team coming along?"

"We've got a really good team this year," Ginny says happily. "Our first match against Ravenclaw is coming up, and I'm sure we'll beat them."

"Make sure you write and tell me all about it," I say, leading her around the corner of the house. There's not anywhere to go where we can't be seen from a window.

"The orchard," Ginny says, reading my mind. "There's plenty of time if we Apparate there and back." Without giving me a chance to answer, she steps forward and turns.

"There, isn't this nice?" she demands a minute later.

I look around. It _is_ nice - and what's more, it's private. "Come here," I say, sitting down under a tree and holding out my hand to her.

"I meant to ask you," I say, a long time later. "What happened to the Slytherins? Did any of them come back?"

"More than you'd think," Ginny says. "None of the ones who fought against us in the battle obviously - although there weren't very many of _them_, were there! And no one whose parents have been definitely linked with the Death Eaters. But the rest of them - the ones who were just - well - "

"Unpleasant?" I suggest, and she laughs.

"That's a good word for it, yeah," she says.

"Mind you watch out for them, anyway," I say.

Ginny sits up, startled. "You don't think it's still going on?" she says incredulously. "Oh, Harry, I thought it was over."

"It probably is," I say. "At least as far as Hogwarts is concerned. Just keep your eyes open, that's all."

"Don't I always?" Ginny says, snuggling back down against me.

**Draco**

I've been watching carefully for owls, but Rodolphus's next communication with me is far more direct.

I'm just coming out of the house next morning when someone grabs me by the arm and yanks me behind the wall. "Don't move," Rodolphus says in my ear. "And don't make a sound till I give you leave. Understand?"

I nod. "Excellent," Rodolphus says, letting go of my arm. I start to look round and at once feel his wand against my throat. "I said _don't move_!" he hisses warningly.

I let myself go limp until the pressure from the wand eases. "Now," Rodolphus says. "Explain yourself. Why haven't you approached your contact?"

Oh, bloody hell. I knew this was coming. "I - er - wasn't sure I'd got the right person," I say. It sounds a bit weak, even to me. "I haven't been introduced to very many Ministry people," I add hastily. "I don't know all of their names yet."

"How did Lucius and Narcissa manage to raise such a complete imbecile?" Rodlophus demands, clearly disgusted with me. "There is no need for you to learn the names of everyone in the Ministry. You need only recognize the names that are on your list. In any case, your contact says that she has attempted to make herself known to you, and that you showed no sign of recognition."

She? It's a girl, then? Well, the only woman I've met is Madam Edgecombe, and it's not bloody her, is it? Wait, though. There's one other. The dark-haired girl - Clarissa.

"I just wanted to be sure she was the right one," I say. "I'll say something to her today, I promise."

"See that you do," Rodolphus says harshly. "Oh, and Draco? I'm sure you'll recall the other item that was in the envelope."

Oh, no. I'd forgotten there was something else in there. I don't even know what it was. Please don't let him say he wants it back or something…

"Yeah," I say, cringing.

"See that you keep it safe," Rodolphus says, and I breathe a bit easier. "Don't even mention it to your contact. The other side would do anything to get their hands on it, and I'm still not completely sure who I can trust."

Well, he obviously guessed wrong when he thought he could trust _me_ with it, but obviously I'm not about to say so.

"Don't worry," I say, truthfully enough. "I won't say a word to her about it." 


	9. Chapter 9

**Hermione**

"I can't think what's keeping the owl with my _Daily Prophet_," I say, getting up to look out of the window again. There's not an owl in sight.

"So read it when you get home tonight," Ron says, yawning. "Isn't there any more toast?"

"Here," I say, handing him the slice off my plate. I know it's silly, but breakfast just doesn't taste the same if I can't read the paper.

"There's your owl now," Harry says, flicking his wand at the window to open it.

"It's about time," I can't resist saying. The owl gives me an irritated look and drops the paper rather heavily on the table.

"There you are," Ron says, returning to his breakfast. "Now we can eat."

"I wasn't aware that I'd slowed you down any," I say, unfolding the _Prophet_. "I - goodness, they've captured Archer Crabbe!"

Ron leans over my shoulder to see. "_'Arrested while attempting to flee'_," he reads aloud. "Bloody hell, we've missed the whole thing - and after all those hours we spent sitting there!"

"I don't believe it," Harry says, setting his tea cup rather precariously on the edge of his plate. "Who made the arrest?"

I glance quickly at the rest of the article. Oh dear. "Er, it says here that Robards did," I say cautiously. "But maybe it's a mistake."

Harry's still staring at me. "Can I read that when you're through?" he asks.

"You can have it now," I say, taking the front page off and handing it to him. "Harry, your cup!"

"Yeah, thanks," Harry says, righting the cup just in time. He disappears behind the paper.

"Let's see the rest," Ron says, reaching over me. "Maybe it's continued somewhere. I can't believe it - all that time in the rain and we missed the only exciting part! Talk about bad luck!"

I glance over to where Harry's still buried behind the front page. "Are you so sure it was luck?" I say in a low voice.

"Huh?" Ron says. "Oh, come on, Hermione - you don't think Robards waited till Harry's day off on purpose, do you?"

Yes - and so does Harry. "Let me do that," I say, rescuing the paper. "You always crinkle the pages. If you'd just - what's that?"

Something's fallen out of the paper.

"It's a little bottle," Ron says, rescuing it from the floor. "It's got a card on - oh, it's a perfume sample. Here, you can have it."

"Funny they sent a whole bottle," I say, unscrewing the top. "Usually they just put it on a bit of parchment or something."

"That's probably why your paper was late," Ron says. "I thought that owl looked a bit annoyed."

I lean over and sniff cautiously. "It's a bit strong," I say.

Ron leans over to smell and immediately sneezes several times. "Better not wear it," he says, moving back hastily. "Whatever it is, I'm allergic to it."

"I wouldn't wear it anyway," I say, putting the top back on. "I don't think it's me, somehow." I pick up the card. "It's called 'Exotic Enchantment'."

"I like the stuff I got you at Madam Pearl's better anyway," Ron says. "You'd better stick with that."

The perfume he got me at Madam Pearl's smells exactly like vanilla extract with a dash of cinnamon. I think Ron likes it because it reminds him of a bakeshop. Still, whatever works. "Harry?" I say, holding out the bottle. "Do you want this for Ginny?"

"What?" Harry says, lowering the paper. "No, Ginny always wears the same perfume. I forget what it's called, but it's definitely not that color."

I look down at the bottle in my hand. Harry's right - the liquid inside is a sort of murky green.

"I don't want _anyone_ I know wearing it," Ron says firmly. "It makes me sneeze."

"_Evanesco_," I say, Vanishing the bottle. "But you'd better brace yourself. If it came in every copy of the paper, half the women in the Ministry are bound to be wearing it this morning."

**Ron**

Hermione's right about that bloody perfume. I can smell it before I even get on the lift. "I'll take the stairs," I say to Harry. "See you!"

Harry nods silently. I can tell he thinks the same as Hermione - that Robards waited till he was out of the way before making an arrest. But there's no way to prove it, is there? I only hope Harry's not going to do something really stupid, like challenge Robards with it.

I hold my breath as I go into the Auror Department, but I can't smell any perfume. "Morning," Perdita says, waving at me from her cubicle.

Harry and I don't have our own cubicles - trainees don't get them - but Perdita lets me keep my things in her desk. "Hi," I say, sitting down on the edge of it and sniffing at her cautiously.

"What, exactly, are you doing?" Perdita asks, giving me an odd look.

"Just checking to make sure you haven't got that Exotic Enchantment stuff on," I say. "It came in the _Prophet_ this morning, and I think I'm allergic to it. I had to take the stairs because every other woman in the lift was wearing it."

Perdita laughs. "It was a bit hard to breathe in there," she agrees. "Never mind, you'll be safe enough in here. Aurors aren't supposed to wear perfume when we're on duty."

"You're not?" I ask, surprised.

"It might give us away if we were trying to hide from someone," Perdita explains.

Well, that's a break. As long as I stay in here all day, I should be all right.

"If you saw the paper, you'll know that they arrested Crabbe last night," Perdita says.

I lean toward her. "Yeah," I say. "Know anything about it?"

Perdita gives me a warning look. "I don't know any more than you do," she says, but I can tell from her expression that she knows plenty. "Well, I expect we've got a new assignment. Shall we go and find out what it is?"

"I hope it's something outside," I say, sliding off the desk and following her down the hall. "Or maybe something in the Muggle part of London - they won't have got those samples with their papers."

**Harry**

I catch up with Ron and Perdita just as they're about to go into Robards' office. "What took you so long?" Ron asks. "I took the stairs and I still made it here before you."

I give him a "not now" look. "The lift kept stopping," I say, deliberately vague.

Perdita's not noticing, anyway. "Morning, Harry," she says brightly. "Ready for your new assignment?"

I want to know what happened with my old assignment, but I don't say so. I don't know Perdita very well, even though Ron seems to think she's great. "I guess so," I say.

"Come in," Robards says in answer to Perdita's knock. "Ah, Miss Duckworthy - and our trainees. I assume you've heard about Crabbe's arrest?"

"Only what we read in the _Prophet_," Perdita says. "Well done, Gawain - that's another one down. What've you got for us, then?"

I don't believe it. She's not even going to _ask_? "What happened, exactly?" I blurt out before Robards can answer. "Crabbe knew we were out there - those Disillusionment Charms were useless once it started raining. Why would he come out?"

Robards raises an eyebrow at me. "What makes you think he came out, Mr. Potter?" he asks.

Now Ron and Perdita are looking at me, too. "Er, I just assumed," I say, feeling a bit flustered. "How else would you have caught him?"

"It's quite simple, Mr. Potter," Robards says, giving me a tight smile. "I went in."

He went _in_? Why the hell couldn't we have done that in the beginning? Robards is watching me. "If you're quite ready, I have your next assignment," he says. His voice is almost challenging - like he's waiting for me to ask another question.

Perdita catches my eye and shakes her head almost imperceptibly. "I'm ready," I say, swallowing hard.

Robards turns to Perdita. "It occurs to me that your trainee has no experience with tracking," he says. "Therefore, I suggest that you pick a name off this list and devote yourselves to tracking him or her down."

I crane my neck so I can see the parchment he's holding out. It's headed "Missing - Whereabouts Unknown".

"Excellent," Perdita says happily, scanning the list of names. "This'll be a really good experience for you, Ron. Here, want to choose?"

"Me?" Ron says uncertainly, but he takes the list from her. "Cattermole," he says, pausing at a name. "I know them - sort of. They're not Death Eaters! Mrs. Cattermole's a Muggle-born."

"The witches and wizards on the list of missing people are not criminals, Mr. Weasley," Robards says.

"They're people who went into hiding so thoroughly that no one's been able to locate them to tell them Voldemort's dead," Perdita explains. "There are more of them than you'd think."

"Since you seem to be acquainted with the Cattermole family, I suggest you search for them," Robards says. "Report back when you've found them."

Perdita at once turns to go. Ron gives me a halfhearted wave and follows her.

"What about me?" I ask, not looking at Robards. "Will I take a name from the list, too?" I'm hoping he'll say yes. It's the sort of thing I'd like to do.

"I think not," Robards says consideringly. He sits down at his desk and starts looking through the papers on it.

I wait, determined not to speak first.

Robards looks up finally. "I intend to go to Azkaban today to question Archer Crabbe," he says, much to my surprise. "If you think you can keep your mouth shut, you may accompany me."

Azkaban? I want to go - and yet, I don't. At least we're not using dementors to guard the prisoners anymore. I look speechlessly at Robards.

He takes my silence for consent. "Very well," he says. "Return to my office in precisely one hour. I suggest that you wear warm clothing - it's very cold there, even at this time of the year."

I leave quickly before he can change his mind. I don't know what to do with myself for an hour. I guess I could go home and get a sweater, or…

Or I could finish what I started this morning - the thing that almost made me late. I could go to the Broom Regulatory Control office and try to find out exactly what Malfoy's up to.

**Hermione**

Miranda shows up late, reeking of Exotic Enchantment. "_Daily Prophet_?" I ask, backing off a few steps.

"Bit strong, isn't it?" Miranda admits, sniffing her wrist critically. "I think I'd better keep it for parties or something."

I start toward the House-Elf Relocation office. I've got two interviews scheduled for this morning.

"Hermione?" Miranda calls after me. "Hang on - bad news."

Oh dear. "What?" I ask, retracing my steps. I hope none of the applicants I rejected has complained about me - although certainly several of them threatened to.

"Bloody Damaris," Miranda says gloomily, staring bleakly down at a piece of parchment in her hand. "She's coming back tomorrow."

"Oh, come on, Miranda," I say bracingly. "She can't be as bad as all that. And we could certainly use the help."

Miranda snorts. "You just wait," she says. "I can tell you one thing, Hermione - she's not going to go along with all of those interviews you've been doing. Far too much work for Madam's liking."

"Well, she needn't," I say. "I can do them myself."

Miranda shakes her head pityingly. "You don't get it, do you?" she says. "She won't allow it - and neither would Diggory, if he ever took the trouble to come down to this office."

"Wilton doesn't mind," I say defensively, but Miranda and I both know it's because Wilton doesn't mind anything as long as we don't bother him.

"Look, Hermione," Miranda says. "You're a bit odd, but I like you, so I'll give you a bit of advice. If you care about those elves in your files, get them parceled out to _someone_ before Damaris gets in here tomorrow. Otherwise she'll do it for you, and you definitely won't like the results."

"But none of the people who've applied so far are suitable," I protest.

"They can't all be that bad," Miranda says, echoing my comment about Damaris.

They are, though. Every single person I spoke to last week was arrogant and rich and inclined to think of house-elves as expendable. If just one of them had been truly needy or - I stop, struck by a sudden idea.

"My first interview's not until half-past ten," I say to an astonished Miranda as I race past her desk. "I'll be back in plenty of time for it - I hope!"

**Draco**

By cutting off several people at the entrance to the lift (too bad for them - they should have moved faster), I manage to get to the Broom Regulatory Control office a few minutes early. I was hoping Clarissa might be there alone, but she's not. There's no one except bloody Hobart, already hard at work like a proper suck-up.

I back out quietly before he sees me and find myself nearly knocking Clarissa over. "What are you doing?" she asks, sounding more amused than puzzled.

Now's my chance, but I'm not sure how to lead up to it. "Er, good weekend?" I ask, stalling.

Clarissa shrugs. "Uneventful," she says.

"Yeah, mine too," I say. _Except for the part where my Uncle Rodolphus cornered me._

Clarissa's looking at me, waiting for more. "It's you, isn't it?" I blurt out.

"What's her?" says a bossy voice from behind me. "Move out of the way, Mr. Malfoy, you're blocking the entrance."

Oh hell - it's that old hag Edgecombe. "Good morning, Madam Edgecombe," I say, giving her my most winning smile. "I must say, that's lovely perfume you're wearing."

It isn't - it's almost suffocating me - but it makes her forget about what I was saying to Clarissa. "Thank you," she says, almost simpering. "It's called Exotic Enchantment - there was a sample bottle in my paper this morning."

There was in ours as well, but Mother took one sniff and gave it to the housemaid. "Well, it certainly suits you," I lie.

Edgecombe's actually blushing. "Now, let's see where we are with the maintenance manuals," she says hastily. "There's a new version coming out today for the Nimbus 2002, you know!"

I can't imagine why they'd bother - surely you take care of it in the same way you do a Nimbus 2001 - but I content myself with rolling my eyes behind her back. Clarissa presses close to me as we enter the room. "Let's talk later," she whispers.

I nod, feeling a deep relief. It's definitely her, then.

**Ron**

"How do you know the Cattermoles, anyway?" Perdita asks.

"I don't," I say. "But I had to be Reg Cattermole for a few hours, so I sort of feel like I know them."

"Was that the day you came after the locket?" Perdita says. "You didn't tell me you impersonated someone from Magical Maintenance." Now she's looking amused. "I'll bet you were hopeless," she says teasingly.

"I was," I admit. "Bloody Yaxley's office wouldn't stop raining on me. Anyway, I'm glad the Cattermoles got out all right. We were a bit worried about them."

Perdita sits down at her desk and pulls a piece of parchment toward her. "So Mrs. Cattermole's Muggle-born," she says thoughtfully. "They might very well have gone into hiding as Muggles." She looks up at me hopefully. "I don't suppose you know anything about her family, do you?"

"No," I say. "But Hermione might. She was in the room when Mrs. Cattermole was being questioned by Umbridge."

Perdita looks startled. "She was being Mafalda Hopkirk," I explain.

"Really?" Perdita says, grinning. "Mind you don't ever tell Mafalda - she's a bit uptight when it comes to rules. Do you think Hermione would remember anything that was said?"

If I know Hermione, she remembers every word. "Count on it," I say. "I'll ask her tonight."

"Let's ask her now," Perdita says, getting up. "Wilton Sikes won't mind - he's probably asleep in his office, anyway."

"Okay," I say. "Er, mind if we take the stairs?"

"She's not here," a girl at the desk in the front of the office tells us a few minutes later. "She went tearing out of here a while ago without telling me where she was going. She ought to be back by half-past ten, though - she's got an appointment."

"Oh," Perdita says, disappointed. "Never mind - we'll catch up to her later."

The girl's peering past her at me. "You're Hermione's boyfriend, aren't you?" she asks. "I've seen you together a few times."

"Yeah," I say, realizing that she must be Miranda. "I'm Ron."

Miranda holds out her hand and I approach - a bit reluctantly - to shake it. She's got that bloody perfume on; I can smell it. I hope it doesn't get on my skin - I'll be sneezing all day.

"I'll tell her you were here," Miranda says. "Any message?"

I can't talk because I'm holding my breath, so I just shake my head.

"No message, thanks," Perdita says, looking like she wants to laugh. "Come on, Ron."

She shakes her head at me when we're out in the corridor. "Get over it," she says. "I haven't heard you sneeze once."

"It made me sneeze this morning," I say defensively.

"Where would Hermione have gone, do you think?" Perdita asks, changing the subject.

"Dunno," I say. "When we were at school it was always the library, but I don't think there's one here - is there?"

"Not an actual library," Perdita says. "Just Magical Records. Well, maybe we'd better start with Reg. How much do you know about him?"

"Nothing," I admit. "Except that he worked for Magical Maintenance. I reckon we could start by talking to the other people in his department, couldn't we?"

"Excellent," Perdita says approvingly. "Tell you what - I'll go with you, but I'll let you ask all the questions. It'll be good practice for you."

"Okay," I say. "Only mind you jump in if I'm missing something important, all right?"

**Hermione**

The Welcome Witch doesn't seem to know what I want. "We don't treat house-elves here," she says for the third time. "St. Mungo's is only equipped to deal with humans."

"I don't _want_ to have them treated," I say, also for the third time. "I want to know if any of your patients could use one."

The Welcome Witch looks at me blankly. This is ridiculous. I'll have to find someone else. I turn away, exasperated, and narrowly miss bumping into a man in Healer robes.

"Are you all right?" he asks, looking at me. "You seem a bit upset."

"I wonder if you could help me," I say impulsively. "I'm from the House-Elf Relocation Office, and I've got several elves that are currently homeless."

"You'd probably need to talk to Housekeeping," the Healer says at once. "But I think they're fully staffed at the moment."

"I didn't mean for them to work _here_," I say, and then add quickly, "Although I'm sure it's very nice. No, I was thinking of your patients."

The Healer looks puzzled. "Our patients?" he repeats. "I'm afraid I don't quite - "

"I haven't explained properly," I say. "Let me start over."

"Let's sit down over here," the Healer says, nodding to some seats along the wall. "Now, Miss - er - "

"Granger," I say, smiling at him. "It's awfully good of you to take the time to listen to me. I suppose I ought to have made an appointment or something, only I wasn't quite sure who to make it with. I only just got the idea a few minutes ago."

"I see," the Healer says, smiling back. He's quite young - not much older than I am. "And your idea was…"

"I thought there might be people at St. Mungo's who are only here because they've no one to look after them at home," I explain. "Obviously the really ill people need to stay here and be looked after by the Healers, but I thought if there were some who weren't quite as ill as all that - " I stop, flustered. He's going to tell me it won't work.

"What an excellent idea," the Healer says, much to my astonishment. "You're quite right - we have several rather elderly patients who can't look after themselves without help - and there's one man who was accidentally blinded by a spell that went wrong - why, yes! House-elves could certainly - I can't believe no one's thought of it before!" He beams at me. "Whatever made you come up with this?"

I'll have to go carefully here. I don't know what sort of background he comes from. "House-elves love to look after people," I say, choosing my words slowly. "And I thought, why not let them go to people who really _need_ looking after?"

"It's a brilliant idea," the Healer says enthusiastically. "How many have you got?"

"At least a dozen," I say eagerly. "Can you find places for all of them?"

The Healer thinks for a minute. "I can think of five or six, anyway," he says. "Tell you what - let me have a word with some of the other Healers and I'll put a list together for you. Will that do?"

"It's wonderful," I say gratefully. "How soon do you think you could have it ready?" I don't mean to rush him, but I took Miranda's warning seriously. I'm not about to let this Damaris person come in and start shuttling house-elves off to people like the Malfoys.

"Give me a couple of hours," the Healer says, getting up. "Just ask the Welcome Witch for Healer McGillicuddy, and she'll fetch me all right." He offers his hand again. "It's been a pleasure, Miss Granger."

"Thank you," I say, meaning it from the bottom of my heart. I watch as he speaks to the Welcome Witch and then disappears around the corner.

A couple of hours, he said. So I should come back at… I glance at my watch and leap to my feet. Goodness, I've got an interview in five minutes. I expect these people will be just as impossible as all the others - but suddenly I don't feel quite so hopeless anymore.

**Harry**

I've got my cover story ready by the time I get out of the lift. I spot a witch with an armload of brooms struggling to open a door and hurry over to her. "Here, let me help you with those," I say.

"Thanks," the witch says, handing them over gratefully. "I thought I could manage them all right, and then I realized my wand was in my pocket and I'd no way to get it out so I could open the door." She looks up. "Harry?"

"It's Morag, isn't it?" I say, struggling to remember her surname. MacDonald? MacBride? Something Scottish, anyway. "You were in Ravenclaw."

"That's right," Morag says. "What on earth are you doing here?"

I hesitate, wondering just how much to tell her. I never knew Morag very well at Hogwarts - she wasn't in the D.A., and she didn't play Quidditch. Still, she was always pleasant enough to me at school. "I'm working for the Auror Department," I say, deciding to stick to my cover story. "And I wanted to speak to someone about a broom."

"A broom?" Morag repeats. "Well, we don't lend them out here, unless it's an emergency. All of those - " she nods at the bundle in my arms - "are defective, so they've got to be sent back."

"I didn't want to borrow one," I say quickly. "I just needed some advice. You see, I've lost the maintenance manual that came with my Firebolt, and I wondered if there was anyone who could answer a question for me." I've also lost the Firebolt, but let's hope Morag doesn't know this.

Apparently she doesn't, for she's nodding. "You'll want to speak to one of the proofreaders," she says. "I'll fetch Hobart for you."

"Hobart?" I say. "Is he the only one? I - er - wouldn't want to take him away from his work if there's no one else there."

Morag makes a face. "The other one's Draco Malfoy," she whispers. "I don't think you'll want to talk to _him_, Harry! You never got on at school, did you?"

"That's a bit of an understatement," I say, wondering how Morag could have gone through six years at Hogwarts with Malfoy and me and not noticed that we were mortal enemies. I know the Ravenclaws spent a lot of time studying, but that's a bit much. I lean closer and lower my voice conspiratorily. "How's he working out, then?"

Morag glances around before answering. "He's _awful_," she whispers. "He doesn't take the work seriously _at all_ - I can't think why he wanted the job in the first place."

"I can't, either," I say. "I mean, he obviously doesn't need the money."

"Well, exactly," Morag says. "Personally, I think he expected a much more important job, but everyone's got to start out at the bottom, don't they?"

"Funny they hired him," I say carefully.

Morag glances over her shoulder again. "I heard they didn't have a choice," she whispers, so low I can barely hear her.

A door at the end of the hall opens. "That's Madam Edgecombe," Morag says nervously. "Maybe this isn't the best time, Harry. She's not exactly a fan of yours, on account of Marietta."

I'm not the one who jinxed Marietta, but there's no time to point it out. "Maybe you're right," I say, handing her the brooms. "I'll come back some other time, then."

I think about what she's just said as I make my way back toward the lift. They didn't have a choice… that means they were ordered to hire Malfoy. By someone who's fairly high up, obviously - which means that someone in the upper levels of the Ministry is pulling strings for former Death Eaters. _Who_, though? Kingsley said they interrogated everyone…

"Are you getting off?" an elderly wizard says to me. "You pressed the button for this floor, didn't you?"

"Did I?" I say. I'd been so wrapped in thought I hadn't even realized. The wizard's staring at me. "Er, I mean, yes, of course I did," I say quickly and get off. The lift doors close behind me.

Of course, the proper thing to do would be to report all of this to Robards. Only I can just picture his expression if I came to him with something like this. He'd never take me seriously. No one ever took me seriously about Draco Malfoy - not even Dumbledore…

I can't tell him yet. I'll have to get more evidence first. My mind made up, I start back to the Auror Office, only to remember that I'm supposed to go home and change into warm clothes first. I've got exactly fifteen minutes before I'm supposed to meet Robards. I press the lift button again. The same elderly wizard is still standing there. He gives me an alarmed look and backs away a step or two.

Avoiding his eyes, I press the button for the lobby.

**Ron**

"I don't believe it," I say, staring at Hermione. "After all those interviews that didn't work out, you managed to find places for about a million elves in _one day_?"

"Not quite that many," Hermione says, smiling at me. "There were only twelve - and I've still got two left, but Healer McGillicuddy said he'd keep his eyes open and let me know if they needed any more. Oh, they were so happy, Ron! The elves as well as the patients. Only they're not patients anymore, now that they've got someone to look after them."

She's lost me. "Who's Healer McGillicuddy?" I ask at random.

"From St. Mungo's," Hermione explains, which doesn't exactly clear things up. "I went there to see if they had any patients who might need home-care."

"Oh," I say, getting it. "And you matched your elves up with them? That's actually a really good idea."

"Healer McGillicuddy said it was absolutely brilliant," Hermione says happily. "He couldn't believe no one had ever thought of it before. He was awfully nice to me."

_Was he, now._ "I suppose he's pretty old," I say hopefully.

"Not at all," Hermione says. "He's only a few years older than we are."

I can't say I like the sound of this McGillicuddy bloke. Hermione's still talking about the people she placed house-elves with. "I've just got to find places for two more," she says. "And I'm sure I can manage that easily enough."

"Well done," I say, kissing her. "McGillicuddy's right - you're brilliant."

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione says, but she looks pleased. "Anyway, tell me about your day. At least you didn't have to watch Crabbe's house again."

"No, it's something much better," I say, leading her into the sitting room. Kreacher's already there with the tea tray, but I don't see Harry.

"Harry home yet?" I ask Kreacher.

"Master came home this morning for his warm clothes," Kreacher says, fussing over the teapot. "He told Kreacher he might be very late, and not to wait dinner." He looks disapproving as he says this. "Master must remember to eat proper meals," he adds sternly. "Kreacher will leave him something in the oven, just in case."

I look blankly at Hermione. "Warm clothes?" I say. "Where do you think he was going?"

Hermione shrugs. "It'll just be us for dinner, then," she says. "You can tell me all about your new assignment."

Just like I knew she would, Hermione remembers everything about Mary Cattermole's interrogation. "Her parents were greengrocers," she says at once. "And she and Reg have got three children, so I should think they must be in school somewhere."

"They wouldn't put them in a Muggle school," I argue. "What if one of the kids forgot and did magic accidentally? And there aren't any wizard schools until you turn eleven."

"Really?" Hermione says, distracted. "How did you learn to read and all that?"

"Mum taught us," I explain. "We had lessons at home every day."

"_All_ of you?" Hermione says. "Goodness, your poor mother."

"It wasn't the whole lot of us at once," I say defensively, but she's got a point there. Mum _did_ say it was a big relief when we all went off to Hogwarts.

Hermione sets her knife and fork down and looks tentatively toward the kitchen. "Don't help him clear," I warn her. "You know he hates it."

"I know," Hermione says with a sigh. "Well, what would you like to do?"

That's easy. "Snog in front of the fireplace," I say at once. We might as well take advantage of Harry being out.

Hermione laughs, but leads the way into the sitting room at once.

"What about Reg Cattermole?" she asks, dropping down on the sofa. "Have you spoken to the other people in the Magical Maintenance department?"

I guess we're going to talk first. "We talked to them for hours," I say, putting my arm around her. Her hair clip's jabbing into my neck and I undo it and stuff it in my pocket. "I can tell you what Reg Cattermole brought for lunch every day, and who his Quidditch team is, and what sorts of things he grew in his garden, but not one of them had a clue where he might be hiding."

"Give me that hair clip," Hermione says firmly. "You've lost three of them on me already. Didn't he have any family?"

"No," I say, handing it over. I like her hair better down, but she thinks wearing it up will make people take her more seriously at work. "And they wouldn't have gone to them, anyway - or Mary's family. That's the first place the Death Eaters would have looked."

"Well, Harry did advise them to leave the country," Hermione says. "I remember Mary saying something about it when we were trying to get out of the lobby."

I've known Hermione for a long time, but I can't help being impressed that she remembers anything anyone said at that particular moment. Personally, I was too wrapped up in trying to escape with my life to take the time to listen to Mary Cattermole. Still, though… "I don't think they would've done that," I say. "Reg isn't exactly clever. I don't think they could have coped in a foreign country."

Hermione looks thoughtful. "Ron, what did Reg like to grow in his garden?" she asks abruptly.

"Huh?" I say. "Oh. Vegetables, mostly. One of the Magical Maintenance blokes told me he'd won all sorts of prizes for his lettuce and carrots. Er, why do you ask?"

"Greengrocers," Hermione says simply.

I pull back so I can see her properly. "You think there's a connection?" I ask, but it's starting to make sense to me. Reg knows how to grow vegetables, and Mary presumably knows something about selling them…

"I know it's a bit weak," Hermione says apologetically. "But it's something."

"It's the best lead we've got," I say, kissing her gratefully. "First thing tomorrow I'll start checking out vegetable markets."

"Look at Muggle ones," Hermione advises. She puts both arms around my neck and smiles up at me. "You know," she says, "I think this week's going to be a lot better than last week for all of us."

**Harry**

"That," Robards says, not looking at me, "is Azkaban Prison."

I look across the bay and see a tall dark tower, seemingly hovering over the sea. I can't help shivering a bit, even though I'm wearing three Weasley Christmas sweaters.

"Yes," Robards says. "A forbiddng sight, is it not?"

_Forbidding_'s a good word for it. Without even having been near the place, I want to Disapparate as fast as I can. Somehow I manage to stand my ground. "How do we get in there?" I ask. "Can we Apparate in?"

Robards shakes his head. "Askaban, like Hogwarts, is protected by Anti-Apparition charms," he says. "I'm sure you can understand why. The only way to get in is by boat."

Great. A boat-trip across freezing, no doubt shark-infested water. I can hardly wait.

"There are no sharks here," Robards says, sounding coldly amused. "They prefer warmer climates."

I'd forgotten he was such a good Legilimens. "How do we get a boat?" I ask. I think briefly of the boat Dumbledore and I took to get the locket and firmly close my mind. I'm not sharing anything about Dumbledore with Robards.

"I have already notified the Headwarden of our impending visit," Robards says. "I need only send a signal to let him know that we have arrived." He pulls out his wand, sending red sparks into the air. Seconds later, I see a small boat racing across the water toward us. It stops at the edge of the beach.

"After you, Mr. Potter," Robards says, nodding at the boat. He pauses, staring at me as I climb in, and for a mad second or two I imagine him giving the boat a push and then swiftly Disapparating back to the Ministry. It'd be a good way to get rid of me, wouldn't it? No one knows where I am - I didn't even tell Kreacher…

Much to my relief, Robards finally steps into the boat after me. "To the fortress," he says to it, and the boat at once starts off, picking up speed as we go. The wind is like ice.

I see what looks like a head pop out of the water to our right. "What's that?" I ask, hoping it's not an Inferius. Once with that was enough, thanks very much.

"Merpeople," Robards says, not looking round. "They're paid to stop escaping prisoners."

I wonder briefly just what sort of payment they get - gold certainly wouldn't be of any use to them, would it? -but before I can bring myself to ask, we're bumping against the shoreline.

"Here we are," Robards says, stepping briskly out of the boat. "Let's go, Potter." 


	10. Chapter 10

**Harry**

When I finally bring myself to raise my eyes, the blackened rock walls of the prison are looming over us. A narrow path leads straight up the side of the cliff.

"This way," Robards says, not even pausing.

The path isn't wide enough for two people, so I'm forced to follow him. The wind is even stronger here, cutting through my three sweaters like I'm not wearing anything at all. It was sunny on the shore, but a cold mist clings about the island. The walls of the cliff seem to press in on me as we climb.

"Careful here," Robards says, not turning around. "The seaweed makes it a bit slippery."

I concentrate on placing my feet carefully. A fall from here onto the pointed rocks below would mean certain death. I wonder that Sirius ever found the courage to break out of this place, especially with the dementors hovering around him.

"Er," I say to Robards' back. I'm never sure what to call him - I can't bring myself to say Gawain like Perdita does, but I'm damned if I'll call him Mr. Robards. "Who guards the prisoners now that the dementors are gone?"

"The Office of Magical Law Enforcement is employing human guards," Robards says, not sounding at all out of breath from the climb. "They are, unfortunately, not the most highly skilled or intelligent wizards, but then again, what can one expect?"

Good point. You'd have to be pretty hard up for a job to want to work here. We've reached the top. Huge double doors guard the entrance. They must be twenty feet tall, and they look like they're made out of iron. I don't see a doorknob or handle anywhere on them.

Robards pulls out his wand again, and I watch as the red sparks drift upward.

"Identify yourselves!" a voice calls, making me jump.

"Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office," Robards replies at once. He turns and looks sideways at me. "And Harry Potter, a trainee in that office," he adds reluctantly.

There's a creaking noise, and the doors swing slowly open. A small wizard, dressed in shabby black robes, is standing in the doorway.

"Mr. Robards," he says, bowing slightly.

"Good afternoon, Headwarden," Robards says briskly. "You have received my message and isolated the prisoner in question?"

The Headwarden smiles - not a nice smile. "He's ready and waiting for you, sir," he says, rubbing his hands together. I can feel him staring at me as I follow Robards into the fortress. "Beg pardon, sir, but did you say this was Harry Potter?" he says.

"Yes," Robards says briefly. "The prisoner, if you please?"

"Right," the Headwarden says hastily, but he darts another furtive look at me before turning and leading us down a dimly lit hallway.

We're finally out of the wind, but the inside of the prison is damp and cold. I can see moss growing on the stone walls. I feel a shiver run up my back. I can't help thinking of all the people I'd rather be here with than Robards. Dumbledore, for instance. Ron and Hermione. Ginny, Neville, Luna… even Snape - well, no, possibly not him.

"In here, sir," the Headwarden says, stopping before another iron door. He taps on it lightly with his wand and it swings open. "Just pull on this rope here, sir, when you want the guards to take him back to his cell," he says, indicating a long moss-covered rope hanging just inside the door.

"Thank you," Robards says, dismissing him. He steps into the room and I follow him, closing the door behind me at a nod from Robards.

The room is empty except for a stone table and a few benches. Archer Crabbe is sitting on one of these, managing to look both defiant and terrified at the same time. He doesn't turn his head as we enter.

"Full Bodybind Charm," Robards says to me out of the side of his mouth. "I shall release him so that he can speak to me. You will keep your wand on him at all times. If he becomes disruptive in any way, Stun him."

I can't see that Crabbe's going to give us any trouble - for one thing, he hasn't got a wand, and for another, where the hell would he go? - but I don't argue. "Right," I say, taking up a position about ten feet behind Crabbe. I pull my wand out and point it at him, feeling slightly ridiculous.

Robards flicks his wand at Crabbe, releasing him. Crabbe at once leaps to his feet, backing away a few steps. "You've got the wrong man," he says in a high-pitched voice. "I'm completely innocent - I swear it!"

"Sit down," Robards says cuttingly. "There's enough evidence against you to keep you here for life."

Crabbe sits, turning slightly green as he does. "Who dares to tell these lies about me?" he blusters. "Was it Lucius Malfoy? He's the one who - "

"I have no interest in Lucius Malfoy," Robards says coldly. "I want to know what you've done with it."

"Done with what?" Crabbe says, looking baffled.

"Do not toy with me," Robards warns. "I hold your life in my hands."

Crabbe's face goes from green to white. Robards takes a step closer to him. Crabbe's eyes are fixed on his face. He hasn't turned around - I'm not even sure if he knows I'm there. "I swear - " Crabbe begins again, his voice trembling.

"Before Voldemort's downfall, an object was taken," Robards says, sounding bored. "You know, I think, what I am referring to?"

_An object? What object?_ Crabbe shakes his head, looking as mystified as I feel. "An - an object?" he repeats slowly. "Something of the Dark Lord's? But the boy - the boy destroyed them - "

"That is not what I meant," Robards says between his teeth. _Not a Horcrux, then. Not something of Voldemort's…_

Crabbe's expression is honestly puzzled. As much as I hate him, I can't help thinking he's telling the truth. It's pretty obvious that he hasn't got a clue what Robards is talking about.

I guess it's obvious to Robards, too, for he turns away abruptly. "Very well," he says coldly, pulling the rope to summon the guard.

"If I knew what you wanted, I'd tell you," Crabbe says desperately. "I swear I would!"

"Oh, I believe you," Robards says quietly. "It wouldn't be the first time you'd sold out your friends."

Crabbe's still protesting when the guard shows up to get him. "Shut up, you!" the guard growls, raising his wand threateningly.

There's something familiar about him. But it couldn't be. They wouldn't hire him to guard prisoners, would they? They can't be as desperate as all that - he's nothing better than a criminal himself…

The guard's hustling Crabbe past me. Crabbe's twisting in his grip, still trying to get Robards to listen to him. The guard wrestles with him, producing a rope from nowhere with which he binds his prisoner.

Something in the way he does it makes me sure. It's him. The guard looks up suddenly and catches my eye. "Well, if it ain't Vernon," he whispers mockingly. I can smell the firewhisky on his breath.

"Potter," Robards says sharply, and we all turn. I hear a startled intake of breath from Crabbe - evidently he's just realized I'm there.

"We will go, now," Robards says, holding the door open for me. And there's nothing more I can do but leave.

**Hermione**

I'm a bit nervous as I open my office door, but to my great relief there's no sign of Damaris. I've still got to write up all of those case-files from yesterday, so I get to work at once. With any luck I'll hear from Healer McGillicuddy before Damaris arrives.

It doesn't take me long to finish. I can't help feeling pleased with myself as I replace the folders alphabetically in the "Completed' section of the file cabinet. The last one belongs to an elf called Wicky - I matched him with the man who'd been accidentally blinded. They were both so pleased…

My sleeve catches on the folder behind Wicky's as I'm placing it in the file-drawer. I reach down to free it and see the name again. Winky… why wasn't there anything about Crouch in her file? I know she was questioned by the Aurors.

Well, maybe the Aurors keep their own files. I suppose I could wait and ask Ron tonight, but something tells me he's not going to have the slightest idea. _Forget about it,_ I tell myself, but I can't. I haven't anything else to do besides wait for Healer McGillicuddy (and Damaris). I've got to do something to keep busy.

Mind made up, I go in search of Miranda.

"If a record isn't in an elf's file, where else would it be?" I ask.

Miranda looks surprised. "Is one missing?" she asks.

"Not exactly," I say, purposely vague. "It's just incomplete."

"Really?" Miranda says. "Funny, there's not usually much to say about them, as a rule. The house-elf records usually just give the reason for relocation, and tell what we did with them."

I don't answer; just look at her expectantly. "I suppose you might try Magical Records," Miranda offers after a minute. "They've generally got copies of everything."

"Thanks," I say, starting for the door.

"Hermione?" Miranda says. "I wouldn't be gone too long, if I were you. _She's_ coming back today."

"Well, _she's_ awfully late," I retort.

"Diggory's probably taken her out for a coffee," Miranda says cynically. "She's got him wrapped around her little finger. Well, you'll see for yourself."

I suppose I will, but I can't help wishing Amos Diggory would decide to make a day of it with Damaris and take her out for lunch and dinner as well.

**Ron**

"Your Hermione's awfully clever, isn't she?" Perdita says. "She'd have made a good Auror."

I like the way she says that - "my Hermione". Bloody Healer McGillicuddy'd do well to remember it as well. "Thanks," I say, realizing too late that I've made it sound as though she's complimenting me and not Hermione. "Er, what do you think? How do we look for Muggle vegetable markets?"

"We can start with a Muggle telephone directory," Perdita says. "They'll all be listed there. Muggle Relations ought to have one we can borrow."

I follow her out the door, hoping I won't have to actually _use_ a Muggle telephone. The one time I tried, it didn't actually work out all that well.

"I nearly forgot," Perdita says, turning round and grinning at me. "I've brought you something. Here, catch!"

What she's brought me turns out to be her sample of Exotic Enchantment from yesterday's Daily Prophet. "Yeah, cheers," I say sarcastically. "At least you're not wearing it."

"I thought you might like to give it to your girlfriend," Perdita says innocently, and then laughs as I shake the bottle at her threateningly. "Don't," she warns. "Or you'll have to smell it on me all day."

I stop, staring at the bottle. The liquid inside is clear. "Our one didn't look like this," I say slowly. "It was greenish and sort of sludgy-looking."

Perdita's face is suddenly serious. "Open it," she says.

I will not. "It makes me sneeze, remember?" I protest.

"Does it?" Perdita says. "Try it."

I open the bottle reluctantly and take a deep breath - and nothing happens. I still don't like the smell of it, but it's not making me sneeze. "Maybe the one we got had gone off or something," I say.

"Maybe," Perdita says. "Or maybe it wasn't perfume at all."

"Oh, come on," I say uneasily. "What do you think it was - poison or something?"

I'm expecting her to laugh, but she doesn't. "I don't know what it was," she says slowly. "Have you still got it at home?"

I shake my head. "Hermione Vanished it," I say. Perdita gives me an exasperated look. "I was _allergic_ to it," I point out defensively.

"Lucky for you that you were," Perdita says. "If it hadn't made you sneeze, what do you suppose would have happened?"

"Hermione would have put it on," I say, horrified. "Only she wouldn't have, because she didn't like it much, either - but if she had…"

"Well, we don't know that it was poison," Perdita says, patting my arm. "But all the same… was there anything else strange about it?"

"The paper was late," I say, remembering. "And the owl seemed a bit annoyed, but we thought it was because the paper was heavier than usual."

Perdita turns abruptly back toward the Auror Office. "Gawain needs to hear about this," she says.

I'd thought we were finished with all this. I'm not an idiot; I know there are still some of them out there, but I didn't think they were still targeting the three of us specifically. "Why go after us _now_, though?" I say. "And why Hermione? Just because she's Muggle-born?"

"It didn't necessarily need to be Hermione," Perdita says. "Hasn't Harry got a girlfriend?"

"Yeah," I say. "My sister." I feel a fresh wave of horror, imagining it.

"Come on," Perdita says.

Robards isn't in his office, though. "I'll send him a message," Perdita decides, pulling out her wand.

"Your Patronus is a duck?" I say, watching. I can't help grinning, even though I'm worried about this perfume thing.

"Naturally," Perdita says calmly. "Well, that's all we can do for now. We might as well go and check those Muggle directories."

I'd nearly forgotten about that. "Perdita?" I say. "Do you mind if I look in on Hermione first? I think I ought to fill her in."

"Go on, then," Perdita says understandingly. "Meet me in the Muggle Relations Office when you're finished. You know where it is?"

"My dad works there," I remind her, hurrying toward the lift. I know Hermione's perfectly safe while she's here, but if she decides to go tearing off to St. Mungo's again… well, if she does, I'm going with her. Let's see how Healer McGillicuddy likes that.

I'm just coming up on the Beings office when I spot Amos Diggory and some witch approaching from the opposite direction. I turn quickly and pretend to be looking at a notice-board on the wall.

"…that was when I was in the South of France, of course," the witch is saying as they walk by. "You really _must_ go, Amos - I found it _so_ relaxing, after all the stress of the last several months."

She doesn't sound stressed to me. What she _sounds_ is stuck on herself. I glance at her sideways. She looks sort of familiar, but I can't think why. Maybe I've seen her around the Ministry.

"I do hope you've completely recovered from your ordeal, Damaris," Amos Diggory says. "Mind you don't overtax yourself with work."

Damaris? _That's_ Damaris? I realize I'm openly staring and turn back to the notice-board again, but it doesn't matter. They're not paying any attention to me.

"I hope this new girl Wilton's hired is useful," Damaris says, sounding like she hopes she isn't. "I really can't be bothered training new staff, you know. I've far too much to do."

"Wilton assures me that she's very clever," Diggory says soothingly. "I'll stay and introduce you, shall I?"

They're going into the office now. I hurry back the way I came. One thing Hermione doesn't need right now is me telling her about perfume that might or might not have been poisoned. Anyway, by the looks of it, she won't be leaving the office for a while.

**Draco**

I never got a chance to talk to Clarissa after work yesterday - old Hagface Edgecombe hustled all of the Correctors off for some stupid meeting late in the afternoon, and they were still at it when I went home. I've been trying to catch her eye all morning, but bloody Hobart keeps fussing at me over the new manuals.

"They've misspelled 'Nimbus' in several places," he says disapprovingly. "Terribly careless of them. Mind you catch all of the errors, Draco. I think you'd better go over that last manual again, just to be sure."

Once our side is back in power, Hobart's the first one I'm sending to Azkaban. He can share a cell with Edgecombe. I glance across the room and see Clarissa gathering up her things. She must be going to lunch.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Hobart demands.

"Lunch," I say. "It's nearly half-past twelve." I catch up with Clarissa just as she reaches the door. "Have lunch with me," I say.

Clarissa raises an eyebrow at me. "That sounded more like an order than a request," she remarks.

"Did it?" I say, thrown a bit. "Sorry. Would you have lunch with me, Clarissa?"

"All right," Clarissa says indifferently. "Ministry Café, or would you prefer something else?"

Definitely not the Ministry Café. I saw Granger and Weasley holding hands at a table in there on my first day and completely lost my appetite. "There's a place just around the corner," I say. "Do you like French food?"

"I ought to," Clarissa says calmly.

I don't know what she means by that, and I don't ask. "Good," I say, leading the way to the lift. I'm not quite sure how to talk to her. I never bothered _asking_ Pansy for dates - I just told her. She never seemed to mind. Anyway, I don't suppose it matters. I'm not trying to date Clarissa, even though she's definitely attractive. I just want to make sure she's my contact.

I look at her covertly from behind my menu as we sit in the restaurant. I'm not sure how to begin. "Clarissa," I say tentatively, just as the waiter comes up.

He immediately begins spouting off something in French - they're so bloody pretentious, aren't they? - and I'm just about to tell him to speak proper English when I realize Clarissa's answering. I can't understand a word she just said, but the waiter's beaming at her.

Clarissa turns to me. "Shall I order for you?" she asks.

"No," I say. "I can manage." I point randomly at the menu. "I'll have that," I say. "And you might bring us some wine, too."

"You speak French really well," I say, once the waiter's finally brought himself to leave Clarissa's side.

"My mum's French," Clarissa explains. "I went to Beauxbatons."

That's why I didn't recognize her from Hogwarts, then. I knew she couldn't be that much older than I am. "Did you come over with them for the TriWizard Tournament?" I ask, just to test her.

"No," Clarissa says regretfully. "I was too young to compete, so there wasn't much point."

I can't help wondering how she got involved with the Death Eaters. If she'd gone to Durmstrang it might have made more sense. Maybe her family… "What's your surname?" I ask abruptly.

"Clarke," Clarissa says, which doesn't enlighten me at all. There were Clarkes on both sides of the battle. Still, at least it's a pureblood name.

The waiter interrupts again, bringing our food. I look, horrified, at the unappetizing mess on my plate. "That's not what I ordered," I say suspiciously.

_"Mais oui, cerveaux,"_ the waiter says, bowing and scurrying away.

Clarissa's giggling behind her hand. "It means brains," she says. "I did offer to order for you."

She might have warned me. "Next time I'll let you," I say, managing to conceal my irritation. "Tell me, how did you end up in the Broom Regulatory Control Office? It doesn't seem like your sort of job."

"Like it's _your_ sort?" Clarissa retorts. "Here, you can have half my chicken - I can't possibly eat all this."

"Thanks," I say, feeling a bit more friendly toward her.

Clarissa looks up at me, suddenly serious. "It doesn't really matter _what_ our jobs are, does it?" she asks. "They're not going to be important for long."

"No," I say, relieved. She's finally brought it out into the open. "Er - have you any idea just _how_ long, though?"

"We'll know when the time is right," Clarissa says vaguely. Maybe she knows and she's not supposed to tell me.

"If it's much longer, I can't answer for what I might do to Hobart," I say.

Clarissa's not listening. "Who's old Diggory got with him?" she asks. "I've never seen her before."

I pretend to drop my napkin and take a quick look over my shoulder. "No idea," I say. She's awfully good-looking, whoever she is.

"Look at him, fawning over her," Clarissa says, amused. "I'll bet she's rich."

"With looks like that, she doesn't need to have a Knut to her name," I say without thinking.

"Maybe you'd rather have lunch with her," Clarissa says coolly.

I'm apologizing, flustered, when I realize she's laughing at me. "Honestly, Draco, you need to relax!" she says. "Loosen up a bit, why don't you?"

How the hell am I supposed to relax when it's all starting up again? But I can't say that here - not now that Amos Diggory's shown up. For all I know he could be here to spy on us. Or that waiter… he hasn't got to stand quite so close to our table, does he?

"We'd better get back," I say, motioning to the hovering waiter. "That prat Hobart's probably timing me."

**Harry**

The return trip takes place in total silence. Robards appears to be wrapped in thought, and I'm not inclined to interrupt him. He obviously didn't get what he wanted from Crabbe - and I still don't know what he's looking for.

_At least you know it's an object,_ I remind myself, but that doesn't exactly get me much further. An object could be just about anything.

And that guard… I know he was one of the Snatchers who brought us to Malfoy Manor, but I can't remember his name. Hermione'll know - she remembers ev-

Only I can't tell Hermione I was at Azkaban. I can't tell her or Ron anything about what I've been doing with Robards. It feels wrong to shut them out, when the three of us have always worked together. And I know they could help with this, too. Only Robards won't let me ask them.

We don't get back till late, but I show up at the office extra early the next day, just to prove to Robards that I don't expect any special treatment. Only it turns out he's not there.

Persimmon, the department secretary, waves to me from her desk and I wander over.

"Haven't seen Gawain, have you?" I ask. The name "Gawain" seems to stick in my throat, but it's what they all call him.

"He left a message for you," Persimmon says, not seeming to notice anything strange. "Now where on earth could I have put - ah, here it is in my knitting basket!" She beams at me and hands it over.

The message is brief and to the point - typically Robards.

_Potter:  
>I shall be detained this morning. I suggest that you use the time to thoroughly familiarize yourself with the Auror Office.<br>G.R._

"He wants me to familiarize myself with the Auror Office," I say to Persimmon, feeling a bit awkward.

"And about time, too!" Persimmon says. "I told Gawain he ought to have shown you round himself weeks ago, but I expect he just got caught up with work. Will I give you a tour, then?"

"If you don't mind," I say gratefully. I could probably wander around by myself, but it feels a bit uncomfortable - like I'm sneaking around in somebody else's house. I still don't feel like I belong here - maybe because Robards makes it so obvious that he doesn't trust me.

Persimmon looks pleased. "It's been ages since I've shown anyone these things," she says happily. "I wanted you for my own trainee, but Gawain insisted on having you for himself." She opens her desk drawer. "Now what - ah, here it is!"

She's holding up a bright blue feather. I wonder why, but decide not to ask.

"Let's start with the Records Room, shall we?" Persimmon says briskly, getting to her feet. She leads the way down the hall to a door I hadn't noticed before and inserts the tip of the feather into the lock. I watch, amazed, as the feather turns into a key that turns itself in the lock effortlessly before becoming a feather again.

"I have to Transfigure the key into a different object every time I use it," Persimmon explains, opening the door. "Security, you know! I'm sure it's a good idea, but it does get a bit tiresome, always having to think up new things to turn it into. Now, this is where we keep the records - obviously, since it's called the Record Room!"

She smiles at me again and I smile back. It's nice to spend a bit of time with someone who doesn't think I'm a useless idiot.

Persimmon moves into the room and I follow her, gaping at the huge banks of filing cabinets. "What's in these?" I ask.

"These are files on every known or suspected Death Eater," Persimmon says, indicating the tallest row of cabinets. "These over here are Departmental files - regulations, and a listing of past and present staff; that sort of thing. And these are - "

"Excuse me," a man says, poking his head in the door. "Persimmon, I need you for a minute."

I recognize him as the wizard who scored our tests at the entrance exam. He nods at me politely. "Sorry to interrupt," he says.

"Can it wait?" Persimmon asks. "I'm in the middle of Harry's tour."

"Not really," the wizard says apologetically. "I was supposed to be in the Minister's office five minutes ago, but I don't know where Gawain left the notes he wanted me to bring."

"Harry, I'm afraid I'll have to help him look," Persimmon says.

"Don't worry about me," I say quickly, wondering if the missing notes have anything to do with our trip to Azkaban. "I'll just look round on my own."

"I won't be long," Persimmon says. "And then I'll show you where we keep our disguises."

Left alone, I head straight for the Death Eater files. There's the one I want: "Ma - Mc". I hesitate briefly before pulling the drawer open. What if it sets off some sort of alarm?

It doesn't, though. And it looks like the Malfoys have a whole drawer to themselves. I glance quickly over my shoulder, but no one's coming. _You have a right to look at the records,_ I remind myself. _You're an Auror, aren't you?_ Only somehow I don't think Robards would see it that way.

**Hermione**

The clerk in Magical Records is very helpful, but there simply _isn't_ anything about Winky. There's a rather large file on the Crouch family, but even the part about Barty Crouch, Junior doesn't refer to her except in passing. It just says "the Crouches were aided in this deception by the family house-elf." They don't even use her name - as though she wasn't important enough to rate a mention. Or as though someone had gone in and very carefully removed any trace of her from the files…

_Don't be silly,_ I tell myself firmly. _No one's allowed to change Magical Records._ Only what if they did?

"Anything else I can show you?" the clerk offers and I come to myself with a start. Goodness, I've been in here for ages - I really ought to get back to the office.

"No, thank you," I say, handing the Crouch file back and hurrying away. Oh dear, I hope Damaris isn't already there.

She is, though. And much to my dismay, Amos Diggory's with her. They've got their heads close together at the other desk - her desk - when I walk in.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Diggory says, getting to his feet. He smiles at me, but the smile never reaches his eyes. "We were wondering where you'd got to."

"Just checking some records," I say. I wonder if Amos Diggory remembers me. _Possibly not,_ I think hopefully. _He only met me the one time, just before the Quidditch World Cup._

"Damaris, my dear," Diggory says to the witch next to him. "This is Hermione Granger. Miss Granger, this is Damaris Gamp, who will be working with you in the House-Elf Relocation Office." He coughs delicately. "Miss Granger is a _very_ close friend of Harry Potter's," he adds.

Oh dear. He _does_ remember me, then. But I've no time to worry about Diggory, for Damaris, too, has risen to her feet. "Delighted to meet you," she says, sounding bored.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, too," I lie. I can tell at a glance that Damaris and I are not destined to become close friends. She flicks a pair of kohl-rimmed eyes over me dismissively before sitting back down again and pulling a piece of parchment toward her.

"You'd better look at this, Amos," she says. Diggory leans over the desk again, and I take the opportunity to look her over. She's certainly beautiful, in a rather exotic way. And her robes look like they came straight from Paris. I sit down at my own desk, miserably conscious of the fact that my own robes came from the rack marked "Clearance" at Madam Malkin's.

"Miss Granger," Diggory says sharply, and I look up, startled. "According to these files, you've turned down several families who requested house-elves."

"Yes," I say defiantly. "I interviewed each of them, and I didn't feel as though any of them were suitable. I specifically asked if they planned to treat the elves kindly, and - "

_"Kindly?"_ Damaris says in disbelief, and laughs. "They're house-elves."

I turn indignantly to Diggory, but he's nodding. "My dear Miss Granger," he says. "You may not be aware of this - with your background - but house-elves don't expect kindness. They're not human, you know."

"Excuse me?" I say stiffly. "My _background_?"

"Well, you're a Muggle-born, aren't you?" Diggory says hastily, looking uncomfortable. "You won't have had much exposure to them. Now, Damaris here grew up with a house-elf at home - as I did myself."

I'll just bet they did. And I'll bet they treated them like dirt, too.

"Some of these people are from our best families," Damaris says, tapping the parchment in front of her with a long red fingernail. "There's absolutely no reason to deny them house-elves." She turns to Diggory. "Amos, I think I'd better send owls to all of these people and tell them there's been a mistake."

"You can't," I say triumphantly. "I've already placed the elves."

"What, all of them?" Diggory says. "Who, may I ask, did you place them with?"

"Most of them," I say. "I placed them with patients from St. Mungo's. People who really needed looking after."

Damaris gives me a look of speechless disgust and then turns her head away.

"Oh, dear," Diggory says, smiling uncomfortably. "Miss Granger, I daresay you meant well, but that's simply not how it's done. There are precedents that we must follow, you know."

"Amos," Damaris says, still looking determinedly past me. "I cannot deal with this just now. My nerves won't stand for it."

"No, of course not," Diggory says at once. "What do you say to a nice lunch, then? There's a lovely little French place just round the corner."

"Yes, all right," Damaris says, sweeping toward the door without looking at me. "Although I'm sure it won't compare to the food I had in Paris."

I wait till I'm sure they're gone before giving vent to some of the things I've been thinking.

"Goodness," Miranda says from the doorway. "I wouldn't have thought you'd even _know_ that word, Hermione."

"It's Ron's fault," I say, blushing. "He's certainly added to my vocabulary - and not in a good way. But if you could have heard them - "

"I did hear them," Miranda says unabashedly. "I was listening outside the door. Why do you think I brought you a cup of tea?" She comes in the rest of the way and places a mug on my desk.

"Thanks," I say gratefully.

Miranda watches me drink it. "I did try to warn you," she says, sitting down on the edge of Damaris's desk. "Awful cow, isn't she?"

I can't help smiling, even though I'm absolutely miserable. "Thanks, Miranda," I say softly. At least I know I've got one friend in this office.

**Ron**

"This is hopeless," I say, looking at the long list of Muggle vegetable markets printed in the directory. "There are thousands of them!"

"And that's only London," Perdita reminds me. "Although I think you're right about trying places a bit farther away. Here's one for the Cornwall area." She heaves another huge book onto the table next to me, and I look at it with dismay. This is starting to remind me a lot of exam time with Hermione.

"Why, hello, Ron!" someone says. "I thought that was you."

I look up to see Perkins standing in the doorway. "Hi," I say, glad to see a familiar face. "Perdita, this is - er - Mr. Perkins. He used to work with my dad." _And I wish I knew his first name so I wouldn't sound like such a prat trying to introduce him._

"Oh, Perdita and I know each other," Perkins assures me, smiling. "Consulting our directories, are you? They're amazing things - not as good as the Internet, of course, but computers don't work around magic."

I don't know what sort of net thing he's talking about, but I knew the bit about computers. Hermione's parents have one, but they asked me - very politely - not to touch it. "The directories aren't doing us much good, either," I say.

Perkins comes into the room and leans over the table. "Would you like some help?" he asks. "I'm rather good with these. What is it you're looking for?"

"Muggle vegetable markets," I explain. "Only we don't know which one."

"Ah," Perkins says. "Yes, I can see that it might be a bit of a problem. We do enjoy our gardening in this country, don't we!" He turns a page slowly and then straightens, beaming at us. "I've just thought of something!" he says. "There was a very nice article in one of the Muggle magazines last fall about a farmers market in a little village - I can't quite remember the name of the place. Here, I'll fetch it for you." He hurries off.

"I suppose it's worth a look," Perdita says doubtfully. "But I can't think how Reg Cattermole would get his hands on a Muggle magazine, can you?"

Perkins is back before I can answer. "Here it is," he says, handing me a page torn from a magazine. "Mind the Spellotape on the corners - the pictures were so lovely that I couldn't resist hanging it up in my office."

Perdita's eyes meet mine. _So that was it…_ "Where in your office?" I ask, just to be sure. "And how long has it been there?"

"On the wall just over the rubbish bin," Perkins says, looking surprised. "And I read the article at least a year ago, so I expect it's been there ever since."

This is it, then. It's got to be. Reg must have seen it a hundred times, emptying the bin. "Mind if we borrow this?" I ask.

**Harry**

"Hermione not back yet?" Ron asks from the sitting room doorway. "I thought she'd be here ahead of me."

I shrug. "Maybe she went back to St. Mungo's," I offer.

"I don't want her going anywhere on her own until we get this perfume thing cleared up," Ron says, looking worried.

I stare at him. "What perfume thing?" I ask, not entirely sure if I've heard him right.

Ron's just opened his mouth to explain when we hear the front door slam shut. "There she is," Ron says, relieved.

"She doesn't sound too happy," I say, listening to what sounds like a bag slamming down on the hall floor. "Have you done something?"

I meant it as a joke, but Ron turns pale. "She was in a hurry this morning, so I promised I'd make the bed and then I forgot," he admits. "But she can't know about that - she hasn't even been upstairs yet."

It's an ongoing battle between Hermione and Kreacher over whose job it is to look after their room. "Kreacher probably did it for you," I point out.

"Yeah, but he does a better job than I do," Ron says. "She can always tell. I was going to sneak up there and mess it up a bit before she got a chance to look."

"Idiot," Hermione says furiously from the hall. "Short-sighted, narrow-minded _idiot_!"

"It's definitely you," I say, grinning. "You'd better get out there."

Ron throws me an agonized look and goes out into the hall. "Hermione, love?" I hear him say tentatively. "Er, is something wrong?"

I follow at a safe distance, just in case I need to produce a Shield Charm. But Hermione flings herself into Ron's arms. "Amos Diggory!" she says, a bit incoherently. "And that _cow_, Damaris!"

"Damaris?" Ron says, looking intensely relieved to find out that he's not the idiot in question. He pats her back. "What's she done, then?"

"She gave away my last two house-elves to absolutely horrible people that I'd already turned down," Hermione says indignantly. "And she said my arrangement with St. Mungo's was completely against the rules and that I'd better not do it again. And bloody Amos Diggory just stood there nodding like a fool!"

"They're not going to make the St. Mungo's people give the elves back, are they?" I ask.

"They can't," Hermione says, sounding pleased with herself. "I made them all sign contracts."

"Good for you," Ron says. "That's ten you saved, anyway."

"But what about the rest?" Hermione says despairingly. "Diggory's no help at all; he just keeps saying we've got to follow the rules. Well, the rules ought to be changed!"

"Well, yeah," Ron says, a bit cautiously. "But - "

"And that's another thing!" Hermione says furiously, raising her head from Ron's shoulder. "I can't live with _those_ in the house for one more minute!"

Ron and I both look to see what she's pointing at. It's the elf heads, still lined up in a row on the wall. We tried to get them down when we moved in, but like Mrs. Black's portrait, there's apparently a Permanent Sticking Charm on them.

"Er," Ron says helplessly. "Er, Hermione, love - "

Kreacher speaks suddenly, making me jump. I hadn't realized he was in the hall. "Shame on them!" he croaks, brandishing a dust-cloth. "Shame on Amos Diggory, when Kreacher's Miss is the only human trying to help the house-elves!"

_Kreacher's Miss?_ I catch Ron's eye again. He looks as dumbfounded as I feel.

"Miss must come into the sitting room, and Kreacher will bring her some nice tea," Kreacher says soothingly to Hermione. "There, now, Miss!"

"Thanks," Hermione says, wiping her eyes. "Kreacher, those heads on the wall - I didn't mean - that is, if you like them there - "

"You leave it to Kreacher, Miss," Kreacher says indulgently. "Come along, now."

Hermione follows him into the sitting room. I can hear Kreacher urging her to "take a nice seat on the sofa, Miss!"

"Did I just hear that?" Ron says, gaping at me.

"Well, it's about time he came round," I say, turning to follow Hermione and Kreacher. I pause, looking at the elf heads. "What do you reckon he means to do with them?"

Ron shrugs. "They're probably all his relatives," he points out. "Maybe he knows where the bodies are buried and he can - er - reunite them."

"Maybe we'd just as soon not know," I say. "What were you starting to tell me earlier - something about perfume?"

"Oh, that," Ron says. "Come on in the sitting room - Hermione'd better hear it, too." 


	11. Chapter 11

**Ron**

"Let me see that," I say, grabbing the paper before Hermione can touch it. I look it over carefully, but it seems to be just a normal paper. Still, it doesn't hurt to be careful, does it?

"If you're quite finished," Hermione says, exasperated. She thinks Perdita and I were both just overreacting.

"Maybe you'd better stop your subscription for awhile," I say.

"I will not!" Hermione says, grabbing the paper back from me. "Ron, even if it _was_ poison - and I'm quite sure it wasn't - those perfume samples went into hundreds of papers. How could anyone know which one was going to come here to Grimmauld Place?"

"They could've waited outside and snatched the owl," I point out. "It was late, remember?" Hermione rolls her eyes at me. "What do you think, Harry?" I ask.

"I don't know," Harry says slowly. "Shame we haven't still got the bottle."

"Well, if any more comes in tomorrow's paper, you're welcome to it," Hermione tells him. "Or on second thought, give it to me and I'll leave it on Damaris's desk."

She's starting to sound like me. I reckon I've been a bad influence on her. "All the same, I think we'd better be careful opening anything we get from owls," I say.

"You won't even be here," Hermione reminds me. I finally broke the news to her that Perdita and I were probably going to have to be gone for a couple of days. She took it all right - I think.

"It's only overnight," I say. "And we might even be back tonight, if we can find the Cattermoles right off." I have a feeling it's not going to be that easy, though.

"That's right," Harry says. "You'll be off in - what was it called again?"

"Tillage Green," Hermione says. "I looked it up in the atlas. It's just a tiny little village - the closest train station's at least an hour away."

"We're not taking a train," I point out. "We're Apparating."

Hermione gives me one of her looks. "I know you're Apparating," she says. "It's just that if there isn't a train, there's not going to be a hotel, either. Where are you planning to stay?"

"Dunno," I say blankly. "I reckon we'll think of something." Or Perdita will. I have a feeling I'm on dangerous ground here with Hermione. "What're you up to today, Harry?" I ask, changing the subject.

Not that he'll tell us anyway. He doesn't tell us anything anymore. I still don't know where he went the night before last. He came home late and went straight to bed without saying anything except goodnight. Mind, I can understand if Robards told him not to - but still. It's _us_.

"There's just some stuff Robards wants to go over this morning," Harry says evasively. "He's given me the afternoon off - I thought I might look in on Teddy." He gets to his feet. "I guess I'd better send an owl to Andromeda Tonks and make sure it's okay. Mind if I borrow Pig?"

Fine. Don't tell us, then. "Go ahead," I say, shrugging. I wait till he's out of the room and then turn to Hermione. "What do you think they're up to?"

"Who, Harry and Robards?" Hermione says. "Maybe nothing. Maybe Robards is just making him sit around and he doesn't like to say so."

Maybe - but somehow I don't think that's it.

Hermione looks sideways at me and adds, "You wouldn't want him to tell us anything he'd been told to keep secret, would you?"

_Yes._ "No," I say. "Look, Hermione, I want you to promise me you'll be careful while I'm gone, okay? I don't like this whole perfume thing."

"You're being silly," Hermione says, but she pats my hand. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah, well," I say. I'm not so sure, but I don't want to keep pushing it. I'll have a word with Harry before I go. "Well, look out for Damaris, then."

"Amos Diggory's nearly as bad," Hermione says crossly. "And he gives in to her on absolutely everything - because she's rich, I suppose. _And_ beautiful."

"You think she's beautiful?" I ask, surprised. "I saw her in the hall with Diggory yesterday morning and I thought she was sort of scary-looking." She actually reminded me a bit of Bellatrix Lestrange, but I don't like to say so to Hermione. She still has nightmares about Bellatrix sometimes.

Hermione giggles. "Scary-looking?" she repeats, amused. "Wait till I tell Miranda." She leans over and kisses me suddenly. "I love you," she says affectionately.

I'm not sure what I said to please her, but I'll take it.

"Ready?" Harry says from the doorway. He means Hermione - I'm not meeting Perdita till ten. "Good luck with the Cattermoles, Ron."

"Thanks," I say, leaning over to kiss Hermione again. "Remember what I said," I whisper. "Be careful."

"I'll be fine," Hermione says, but she clings to me for a minute anyway. I hate leaving her like this.

Hermione gets to her feet and then stops, looking me over. "You're not wearing _that_, are you?"

Now what? I look down at my sweatshirt. "It's clean," I protest. "Kreacher washed it for me."

Hermione rolls her eyes at me. "I know it's clean," she says. "What does it say on the front?"

"Chudley Cannons," I say, a bit defensively. "I know they're not having a great season, but it's my lucky sweatshirt."

Harry's laughing. "Ron, you're supposed to look like a Muggle," he reminds me. "You can't go around wearing the name of a Quidditch team on your shirt."

I knew that. "I was going to change before I left," I say quickly, but I can tell neither one of them believes me.

**Draco**

Clarissa left before I could catch her last night, but she's waiting for me in the hall outside the Broom Regulatory Control office this morning.

"Will you have lunch with me again?" I ask, remembering my manners this time.

Clarissa shakes her head. "I can't," she says, not offering any explanation. "But you can take me to dinner if you like."

Why not lunch? I wonder, annoyed. Dinner's going to be bloody expensive, and Father's got me on what seems to me a most unrealistic budget. Still, I suppose I can always tap Mother.

"All right," I say. "I'll catch up with you after work, then." It's not going to be that damned French place, though. There's bound to be someplace in Diagon Alley.

The day - as usual - is interminably boring. Clarissa vanishes immediately at noon, leaving me alone with Hobart. "I suppose you're going to lunch," he says snippily.

"You ought to try it sometime," I tell him, leaving the room before he can decide to come with me.

It'll have to be the Ministry Café today - if I've got to take Clarissa to dinner, it's about all I can afford. Oh hell, there's Edgecombe. Well, maybe she won't see -

"Draco!" Edgecombe calls, standing up and waving at me. "Over here!"

Bloody hell. Still, she's my boss - for now. "Hello," I say, gritting my teeth.

"You remember my daughter, Marietta," Edgecombe says, indicating the girl across from her.

I remember she was ugly - and how about that, she still is. Mind, it's hard to be attractive when you've got the word "Sneak" etched across your face. She's tried to cover it up, but it just makes her look like she's wearing a rather lumpy mask.

"Of course," I say, turning on the charm. "Hi, Marietta."

Marietta barely glances up. "Hi," she says shortly.

That's right, she was in that stupid group of Potter's - Dumbledore's Army. What a bunch of losers. "I didn't know you worked here," I persist. "Which Department are you in?"

"I don't work here," Marietta says, still looking at her plate.

"Marietta's at the _Daily Prophet_, aren't you, darling?" Edgecombe says quickly. "She just came by to have lunch with me. We always - oh, there's Kingsley Shacklebolt. Yoo-hoo, Minister!"

She's on her feet, chasing him. Shacklebolt looks dismayed, then resigned as she corners him.

Marietta's still ignoring me, but I'll bet I can make her talk to me. I lean forward. "I hear we've got an enemy in common," I say softly. "Hermione Granger."

That does it. _"Her,"_ Marietta says furiously. "Mum says she works here. She ought to be in Azkaban after what she did to me!"

Even hating Granger as much as I do, I can't help thinking Marietta's overreacting a bit. "She was always one of Dumbledore's pets," I say sympathetically. "Still, he's not around to protect her now. I wonder you don't try to prosecute."

"I talked to someone from the Wizengamut once, but they said I didn't have a case," Marietta says. "We were all underage at the time - and I couldn't prove it was her, you see."

Oh, this is even better than I thought it was going to be. "But she shouldn't be allowed to get away with it," I say. "If it were me, I'd be tempted to take matters into my own hands."

A tiny smile plays around Marietta's lips.

**Harry**

"Now," Andromeda says. "Tell me how you're getting on with Gawain Robards. I hear he's selected you to train under him."

"I don't know if we're getting on or not," I admit, shooting stars out of my wand for Teddy's amusement. "He doesn't seem to like me much."

"Nonsense," Andromeda says firmly. "Dora never thought he liked her when she was a trainee, either, but after she qualified he told her privately that she was one of his best students. He just finds it hard to unbend, I think. Some people are like that."

"Yeah, but he doesn't trust me," I say.

"Well, that takes time," Andromeda says gently. She hesitates and adds, "I don't suppose he's told you anything about his background, has he?"

"No," I say, startled. "He's not a reformed Death Eater or anything, is he?"

"Hardly," Andromeda says. "The Death Eaters killed his entire family - his wife and four children - when he was still a young man. He vowed to devote the rest of his life to tracking them down. It - it changed him, Harry. He was always the life of the party before; always laughing…"

_Robards?_ "I didn't know that," I say, feeling a rush of sympathy for Robards. "I didn't know he'd ever been married."

"He doesn't talk about them," Andromeda says. "Not ever. So mind you don't let on that I've told you. I wouldn't have done, except that I think it might help you to understand him a little better."

Teddy looks up at me from his blanket on the floor and holds out his arms. "He wants you to pick him up," Andromeda says, smiling at me.

I lift Teddy up and he pats my cheek gently. "Da!" he tells me.

I look at Andromeda. "Er, da?"

"It's his all-purpose word," Andromeda says. "But just now I think he's saying he likes you."

"I like you, too," I say to Teddy, settling back with him against my shoulder. I feel another pang, thinking of Robards. Imagine the Death Eaters taking your kid…

"Now," Andromeda says. "Tell me about that girlfriend of yours. How's she liking school this year?"

"She was never one for lessons," I say, grinning at the thought. Ginny's last letter was full of nothing but Quidditch. "She's bright enough, mind, but I think she gets bored."

"She probably misses you," Andromeda says.

"I'm going to see her on Saturday," I say. "It's their Hogsmeade weekend - we're going to meet at the Three Broomsticks." If I don't do anything in the meantime to get Robards mad at me, that is. He did say I could have Saturday off, but I wouldn't put it past him to change his mind.

"That's nice," Andromeda says. "And then it'll be no time at all till the Christmas holidays."

"I guess," I say, wondering if I'll ever get old enough to think two and a half months is "no time". Thinking of Hogwarts reminds me of Malfoy. "Andromeda?" I say, trying to think of a way to approach the subject. "Do you mind if I ask you something? Who got married first - you or Narcissa?"

"I did," Andromeda says, looking surprised. "I didn't go to Narcissa's wedding, of course. She wasn't speaking to me by then - and neither was the rest of the family."

"Oh," I say, disappointed. "So you don't know much about the Malfoys, then?"

"I know plenty about them," Andromeda says crisply. "I was at school with that nasty little cobra Lucius."

"I like that," I say appreciatively. "There's something very cobra-like about Lucius Malfoy."

"What did you want to know?" Andromeda asks.

"I'm not sure," I admit. "It's just that his son's started working at the Ministry - in the Broom Regulatory Control Office - and I think he must be up to something."

"He's definitely up to something," Andromeda agrees, to my immense satisfaction. "No Malfoy would work - especially at a low-level job - unless he had an ulterior motive." She grins at me. "Are you going to find out what it is?"

"Yep," I say, grinning back.

"Lucius Malfoy's son," Andromeda says reflectively. "He was in your year at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"

I nod. "Lucius was a poisonous little beast," Andromeda says. "Oh, he never bothered me any - he knew better than that - but he was perfectly foul to a lot of the younger kids."

I'd forgotten. She would have known all of them. _"Andromeda was my favorite cousin," _I remember Sirius saying. I start to lean forward, then realize Teddy's fallen asleep and settle back again. "Did you know my mum and dad?"

Andromeda shakes her head regretfully. "Not very well," she admits. "They were a great deal younger than I was - and they were in a different house. I remember James, of course, because he was best friends with Sirius - the pair of them were always in trouble - and I remember seeing your mum getting Sorted and thinking she'd got the prettiest hair I'd ever seen… but that's about all, really."

"You were a Slytherin?" I say.

Andromeda laughs. "Don't give me that look," she says, mock-sternly. "There were some good Slytherins, you know."

"Mr. Tonks wasn't one though, was he?" I ask. He couldn't have been - not if he was Muggle-born…

"No, Ted was in Hufflepuff," Andromeda says. "And my family didn't particularly like _that_, either, although it was of far less importance than him not being a pureblood. They never understood how I could have preferred a nobody like him over Rodolphus."

"Rodolphus?" I say, stunned. "Rodolphus Lestrange? But he married- "

"My sister Bellatrix," Andromeda says calmly. "Yes."

And I thought _my_ love life was complicated.

"You see, Harry, one Black girl was really the same as another as far as the Lestranges were concerned," Andromeda explains. "It was all about money and position, really. Rodolphus and I dated until about the middle of seventh year - and he didn't take it very well when I broke up with him - but he consoled himself with Bella rather quickly."

I'm silent for a minute, trying to imagine it. I wonder how long it took Lestrange to realize that his wife was completely insane. "There was another brother," I say slowly. "Who did he marry?"

"Rabastan?" Andromeda says. "Let me think… one of the Bulstrode girls, I believe. She died rather young, I remember. I didn't go to their wedding, either - I'd been stricken off the family tree by then. But in any case, Rabastan never spent much time with us at school."

"He didn't?" I ask. "Why not?"

"He and Rodolphus had some sort of falling out during my fourth year and they never quite made it up," Andromeda says. "It was terribly silly, really. Rabastan had a coin that he said had belonged to Slytherin. He used to show it off all the time - taking it out of his pocket and flipping it in the air - you know the sort of thing."

I nod, remembering my dad with the Snitch.

"And then one day he lost it," Andromeda continues. "And he accused Rodolphus of taking it - which I suppose he might very well have done, but there was no evidence against him. The two of them didn't speak for months."

"Over a coin?" I say.

"I know," Andromeda says. "But Rabastan was extremely possessive - and Rodolphus had certainly been known to take things that didn't belong to him in the past. Although as I told Rabastan, it was absolutely ridiculous to think that coin had ever truly belonged to Slytherin. It just looked like an ordinary Galleon to me - quite old, of course, but hardly as ancient as all that!"

Andromeda must have been a bit like Hermione when she was younger. "I'll bet he didn't like that," I say, grinning at her.

"No, he didn't," Andromeda says with a laugh. "But I never cared what Rabastan thought. Anyway, I don't think things were ever quite the same between the two of them, even though they were both fighting on the same side in the end."

I'm still thinking about what she said. I've no idea what sort of money they used in Slytherin's time - Hermione'd be the one to ask about that - but maybe it had other uses. "Did it have any special powers?" I ask.

"What, the coin?" Andromeda asks, and laughs again. "I don't think so - or if it did, Rabastan never told any of us about them."

Still, though - it's something. Something one of the Lestranges might have had in their possession at the time of the battle - something that hadn't belonged to Voldemort (although if he'd known about it, he would certainly have claimed it for himself as the last surviving descendant of Salazar Slytherin).

"Harry, your arm must be nearly asleep," Andromeda says, getting up and taking the sleeping Teddy from me. "Here, I'd better put him in his crib."

"I'd better be going myself," I say, rising and shaking my arm to get the blood flowing again. "Thanks for having me."

"Stay for dinner," Andromeda urges.

"I don't know," I say hesitantly. "There's Hermione - Ron's away, and she'll be all on her own tonight."

"We'll have Hermione, too," Andromeda says briskly. "She's someone I'd quite like to get to know. You write her a note while I put Teddy down, and we'll wake up my old owl to bring it to her."

**Hermione**

I don't like to admit it, but I don't like the idea of Ron being away overnight with this Perdita. I trust him, naturally - but I'll bet he wouldn't like it if it were me, either. I'd feel a bit better if I'd met Perdita, but so far there hasn't been time. I did ask Harry what she was like, but he wasn't any help at all. He just said she seemed nice and had blonde hair - which didn't exactly soothe my nerves. Ron's always had a weakness for blondes.

By the time I reach the office I've managed to put it out of my mind. I take a deep breath and open the door - but no one's there.

"You didn't think she'd be in two days in a row, did you?" Miranda says from behind me. "She's sent me an owl, though. I'm to tell you that if any more house-elves apply for relocation, she's promised Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy the next one."

"The Malfoys?" I say, outraged. "Absolutely not!"

"They've been cleared of any wrongdoing," Miranda reminds me. "And they've given lots of gold to the Ministry. Anyway, _I_ think Lucius Malfoy's dead sexy. I wouldn't mind going to his house."

"You're welcome to transform yourself into a house-elf and I'll ship you off," I say crisply. "You wouldn't think Malfoy was so sexy if you knew as much about him as I do."

"Like what?" Miranda asks eagerly.

"Never mind," I say, already regretting my words. "I'm going to speak to Kingsley about this."

"The Minister of Magic?" Miranda asks, looking dismayed and impressed at the same time. "Hermione, you can't bother him about this!"

"Can't I?" I say, and go.

I hesitate outside Kingsley's office, wondering just how I'm going to approach the subject. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining. But then I remember Dobby. I can't let another elf suffer the same fate.

"Hermione!" Kingsley says, looking up and smiling. There's a huge stack of parchment in front of him, but he pushes it aside and waves me into a chair. "I meant to stop in and see how you were getting on, but it's been so busy. How do you like the House-Elf Relocation Office?"

"I like parts of it," I say cautiously. "Kingsley, I don't want to bother you when you've got so much going on, but if you don't stop them, they're going to let Lucius Malfoy have an elf, and it's - it's just _wrong_!"

Kingsley looks up alertly. "Malfoy?" he says sharply. "A house-elf? No, _that's_ not going to happen. I'll have a word with Diggory."

"Good," I say, relieved. "I knew you'd agree with me. After the way they treated poor Dobby, the Malfoys don't deserve to have a house-elf."

"Dobby?" Kingsley says. "Oh - yes. Quite right."

It's funny, but I have a feeling there's something he's not saying. It's almost as though Kingsley has another reason for not wanting the Malfoys to have a house-elf. Well, whatever it is, he's going to stop Damaris and that's all I care about.

"I'll let you get on with all that," I say, nodding at the paperwork on his desk and getting to my feet. "Thanks for listening, Kingsley."

"Anytime," Kingsley says.

I'm almost at the door when he calls me back. "Hermione, if anyone else approaches you about an elf for the Malfoys - or if anything out of the ordinary seems to be happening - come and tell me, all right?"

"All right," I say, wondering. It's not until I'm almost back at my desk that Winky's file crosses my mind, but I dismiss the thought immediately. I'm sure that's not the sort of thing Kingsley meant.

Now that I know I haven't got to worry about Damaris, the rest of the day goes quickly, and it's five o'clock before I know it.

"Good evening, Miss!" Kreacher says, hurrying to take my cloak. He looks up at me expectantly. "Does Kreacher's Miss notice anything different?"

I look up. "The elf heads," I say softly. "They're gone."

Kreacher beams at me. "Miss is pleased," he says happily.

"Yes," I admit. I feel a sudden twinge of guilt. "Kreacher, you didn't mind, did you?" I ask anxiously.

"Those heads is where they should be, Miss," Kreacher says firmly. "Of course, Kreacher's old Mistress used to like to see them."

She would. I'd like to get rid of her portrait as well, but I'm afraid the suggestion might push Kreacher over the edge.

"She used to tell Kreacher his head would be up there one day, too," Kreacher continues reminiscently. He shudders a little. "It got so Kreacher didn't like to see her with a knife in her hand, Miss."

Hmm. Maybe he wouldn't be so averse to the idea of removing the portrait - although certainly she doesn't trouble us so much now that Harry had the brilliant idea of using a Langlock Charm on her. "Kreacher," I begin tentatively, just as something raps at the window behind me. I look round to see a large tawny owl pecking at the glass.

"Miss has gotten an owl," Kreacher says unnecessarily, staring at the window behind me.

Oh dear. Ron warned me about this, didn't he? Still, supposing it's a message from him? It'd be just like Ron to tell me not to take anything from owls and then send me a letter by one. Kreacher opens the window while I'm still hesitating, and the bird flies in and drops a letter at my feet. I recognize Harry's handwriting with relief.

_"Andromeda Tonks has invited both of us to dinner,"_ Harry's written. _"Please come, Hermione. I want you to hear what she's got to say - I think it could be important."_

Now what? I don't really feel like going anywhere, but I suppose I'd better make an effort. I turn the parchment over and scribble a quick acceptance on the back and hand it to the waiting owl.

"Kreacher, I've been asked to dinner at - at a friend's house," I say, deciding I'd better not mention Andromeda's name. Kreacher's come a long way, but I don't know if his forgiveness has extended to the disowned Black sister yet. "Harry's there already."

Kreacher nods. "It will do Miss good to go out," he says firmly. "And Miss's Wheezy will be back tomorrow."

"Let's hope so," I say, picking up my cloak again.

**Ron**

Tillage Green's easy enough to find - what there is of it. "I don't see anything but farms," Perdita says, climbing up on a stone wall so she can see better. "Do you think we ought to go up to one of those farmhouses and ask?"

"It's going to look weird," I object. "They can't get many visitors here."

"We might have come for the Farmers Market," Perdita argues.

"Well, this definitely isn't it," I say, looking around. "Unless you think those cows are going to open a stall. I think we ought to look around for the center of the village. There's got to be a shop or something."

"Does there?" Perdita says cynically, but she hops down from the wall. "All right. Well, here's a path. Shall we follow it and see where it goes?"

It takes us nearly an hour, but at last we come over the crest of a hill and see a few buildings clustered together at the bottom.

"There you are," Perdita says cheerfully. "I expect that's the center. Doesn't look very lively, does it?"

She's right - there's no one about - but I ignore her and start down the hill. "Look," I say triumphantly, turning and waiting for her to catch up. "That's a shop right there - it says so on the sign."

"'Goods'," Perdita reads aloud, looking up at the faded wooden sign. "Well, that's short and to the point, isn't it?"

The door creaks slightly as we push it open, and an elderly Muggle woman looks up, startled, from behind the counter.

"Good afternoon," Perdita says, smiling at her. "We were looking for the Farmers Market. Have we come to the right place?"

"Aye," the old woman says slowly. "You're in the right place."

Perdita throws me a puzzled look. "We are?" she asks carefully.

"The right place," the old woman explains. "But the wrong day, dears. Market's not till tomorrow."

"Oh," Perdita says, disappointed, and turns to me again. "I suppose we'll have to come back - or else find a place nearby to spend the night."

"Come far, have you?" the old woman asks genially.

"From London," I say, getting a sudden idea. "I don't suppose there's anyone who'd be able to sell us some vegetables today, is there? My - er - sister and I really like vegetables a lot, and we read all about your Market in _Gardening Week_, and - well, we'd really like to get something today."

"Aye, there might be," the old woman says after a moment's thought. "Not much to choose from this time of year, mind - 'less you like squash."

"Love it," I lie. I hate squash.

"We'd be glad of a recommendation," Perdita says, taking over. "Who would you say grows the largest squashes?"

Good thinking - Reg'd be bound to have the biggest ones, wouldn't he? I'll bet he's using an Engorgement Charm on them.

"Bigger's not always better," the old woman grumbles. "But if that's what you're looking for, you'll want to talk to Myron Mole."

Perdita's eyes meet mine. Mole? It's got to be them.

"Only you can't," the old woman continues. "Myron and his missus took the young ones into town for shoes this morning. They won't be back till tomorrow. You can see 'em at Market then."

"Well, now what?" Perdita asks as we start back up the hill. "I suppose we could find a place to spend the night - I've got a tent."

"We could just go home and come back again tomorrow, couldn't we?" I ask. I know Hermione didn't take me seriously about that perfume - there's no telling what she might open next if I'm not there to stop her.

Perdita grins at me understandingly. "Go on home to your girlfriend, then," she says. "I think I'll stay here myself - Marvin's got to work the overnight shift. Anyway, the Cattermoles might come home early."

"I'll help you set the tent up, anyway," I say, a bit guiltily. "Want to do it here in this patch of trees?"

I linger for a few minutes after we've finished. "You're sure you don't mind, Perdita? You're not nervous about staying here alone, are you?"

"I've done this dozens of times," Perdita says. "I never get nervous - and I've got a book I've been trying to finish since August. I'll see you in the morning."

I wander around the fields for a bit after I've left her, looking for a good place to Disapparate. I don't think anyone's around, but it'd be just my luck to be seen by a Muggle. Maybe over there in those woods…

The woods aren't as deep as they looked from across the way. In fact, I think I'm in someone's backyard. There's a house up ahead. It's someone with kids, judging by the toy broomstick and the -

Wait. The toy _broomstick_?

Something pokes me in the middle of the back. "Don't move or I'll Stun you," a voice says from behind me. "I recognized you the second you came out of the trees. You're that Death Eater that tried to impersonate me!"

"I didn't," I protest, even though I sort of did. "And I'm not a Death Eater - I'm an Auror. I've come to help you." I don't dare turn around, but I reach - cautiously - for my wand.

"Keep your hands still!" Reg Cattermole says sharply. "Into the house now - go on, move!"

I go, because there's not anything else I can do. I only hope Reg is going to let me explain things before he Stuns me, because I can't look for help from anyone else. Hermione thinks I'm with Perdita, and Perdita thinks I'm with Hermione. No one's going to be looking for me at all till tomorrow morning.

**Hermione**

I was a bit unsure about just showing up at Andromeda Tonks' house - after all, I scarcely know her - but she couldn't be more gracious. "Dora was very fond of you," she says, taking both my hands in hers. "She said you were terribly clever."

"She is," Harry says, grinning at me. "She's going to reform the whole House-Elf Relocation Office."

"Shut up," I say, blushing. "Where's little Teddy? I'd love to see him."

"He's having a nap just now, but he'll be waking up any time for his dinner," Andromeda says, smiling at me. "Come into the parlor and have a glass of wine with us."

"Andromeda's been telling me about when she was at Hogwarts," Harry says, leading me into the parlor. "We were just going to look at some pictures."

"That sounds like fun," I say, wondering if this is the "something important" he mentioned in the letter.

"This is us when we were at school," Andromeda says, handing me a large photograph album. "Goodness, that's dusty, isn't it!"

"It's fine," I say, brushing at the cover with my sleeve. I turn to the first page. "This is you, isn't it?"

Andromeda leans over my shoulder to see. "It is," she confirms. "And here I am with my sisters."

The young Bellatrix in the photograph turns her head and glares at me. I can't help drawing back a bit from the page.

"Let me see," Harry says, taking the album from me. "Are there any of Malfoy and the Lestrange brothers?"

"Here's one of Rodolphus and Rabastan together," Andromeda says, sitting down on my other side. "That was before their argument, of course. Look, you can just barely see the coin in Rabastan's hand. I told you he was always playing with it."

Harry bends so closely over the album that his nose is almost touching the page. "Hermione, what do you think?" he asks breathlessly. "If you look close you can see it pretty clearly."

Mystified, I lean down, peering at the coin. "What about it?" I ask. "It looks like an ordinary Galleon to me."

Andromeda bursts out laughing. "I knew I was going to like you, Hermione," she remarks.

"It was Slytherin's," Harry tells me. "At least, that's what Rabastan Lestrange thought."

How ridiculous. "I'm sure it was no such thing," I say firmly. "And in any case, I think they used gold coins in Slytherin's time, not Galleons."

"It might have been gold," Harry says doubtfully, turning to Andromeda. "Was it?"

Andromeda shrugs. "It was so tarnished it might have been made out of anything," she says. "Here, would you like to see one of Sirius?"

Harry looks eagerly at a picture of a laughing, black-haired boy. "Look, Hermione," he says. "I hardly ever saw him happy."

"It's lovely," I say, but my mind is still on the coin. Is that what Harry wanted me to hear about? I'll have to look up ancient forms of wizard money when we get home - it's bound to be in _A History of Magic_.

"Here's Ted," Andromeda says in a different voice. She takes the album from Harry, running her fingers lightly over the page. "He was so handsome in those days - and so _kind_."

I suppose kindness was a foreign concept to Andromeda, growing up with that family of hers. "How did you get together?" I ask. "If you don't mind telling us, that is."

Andromeda smiles at me, but her eyes are distant. "I don't mind," she says softly. "I was going through rather a difficult time during my seventh year. My sisters and most of my so-called friends had declared themselves for Voldemort, and I didn't want anything to do with it. They were making things very uncomfortable for me, and I hadn't anyone to talk to - well, except Sirius, but he was younger and a Gryffindor, besides. I went for a walk around the lake to think things out, and I'm afraid I may have been crying just a little - and I met Ted. He was so sweet and sympathetic, and he urged me to keep fighting." She looks down at the picture again. "And so I did - and I never stopped, even after they'd taken everyone I cared about."

My own eyes are full of tears. "But now you've got Teddy," I whisper.

"And me," Harry says firmly.

Andromeda puts her hand on his arm. "Now I have both of you," she confirms. "And speaking of Teddy, I think I hear him now. Will you go and get him up for me, Harry?"

"Now, I want to hear all about your job at the Ministry," Andromeda says, once Harry's left the room. "Are you really trying to reform the House-Elf Relocation Office, or was Harry just teasing you?"

"No, I really am," I admit. "Mind, it's been a bit difficult since Damaris came back."

"Damaris?" Andromeda says, raising her eyebrows. "Not Damaris Gamp?"

"You know her?" I ask.

Andromeda shakes her head. "You want to watch out for that one," she warns me. "She's a born troublemaker. She was at school with Dora - and her parents were both at school with me."

Somehow I'm not surprised to hear this. I start to ask just what sort of trouble Damaris caused at Hogwarts, but Harry's coming back with Teddy in his arms.

"Here you are, Hermione," he says, dropping him onto my lap. "You'd better get in some practice!"

"Don't be silly," I say, blushing.

**Draco**

"Thanks for dinner," Clarissa says, stopping outside the door to her flat. "It was lovely."

I look down at her, wondering what to do. I never meant it to be a date, exactly, but it sort of turned into one. We talked all night, but neither of us ever mentioned the Death Eaters. I have an uneasy feeling that this isn't what Rodolphus meant by making contact.

"This is the part where you kiss me," Clarissa prompts, looking at me expectantly.

The hell with Rodolphus. It won't hurt anything if I kiss her, will it?

I'm in a daze, walking home. Kissing Clarissa is nothing like kissing Pansy was. "Don't be a prat," I warn myself. "You can't fall for this girl - you'll ruin everything."

I don't feel like going home yet. I told Mother and Father I was having dinner with a school friend. I don't want to tell them about Clarissa yet. Anyway, Mother's always pushing Pansy at me. "Such a lovely girl," she keeps saying, oblivious to the fact that Pansy hasn't written to me once since Father had to appear before the Wizengamut. The Parkinsons managed to escape without being accused of anything, but they were in it as deep as the rest of us.

I turn down the entrance to Knockturn Alley. There's a quiet little pub here where no one bothers anyone else. I push my way up to the bar and order a firewhisky, knocking it straight back.

"That stuff'll kill you," says a voice at my elbow.

I turn sharply. "Blaise Zabini!" I say, astounded. "You're the last person I expected to see in here."

Zabini shrugs, looking bored. "I just got in from Paris a few hours ago," he says. "And I'm tempted to turn right around and go back. The French girls, Malfoy… really, you've no idea."

"Don't I?" I say. "The girl I'm dating now is half French."

Zabini looks mildly interested. "Anyone I know?" he asks.

"Doubt it," I say. "She went to Beauxbatons. She's called Clarissa - Clarissa Clarke. And you can bloody well keep away from her, because I saw her first."

"Clarke?" Zabini says suspiciously. "Is she from the Surrey branch of the family, or the other lot?"

How the hell should I know? Zabini's an even worse snob than my mother, and that's saying quite a lot. "I don't care which branch she's from," I say, picking up my glass again.

"Well, you ought to," Zabini says. "The Surrey branch was on our side, but the others are all blood traitors. Or maybe it's the other way round - I can't remember." He glances around, looking superior. "_So_ not my crowd in here," he says. "Good to see you, Malfoy - I'm off."

He's gone before I can question him further. But it doesn't matter. I'm sure Clarissa's from the right side of the Clarke family (whichever it is). After all, she's dating _me_, isn't she? 


	12. Chapter 12

**Ron**

"Hurry up!" Reg says, poking me in the back with his wand again. "Into the house!" His voice sounds squeaky, like he's a bit nervous.

I could probably take him pretty easily, but I sort of hate to do it. He only comes up to my shoulder. "Listen, Reg," I say, trying to make him see reason. "I'm not what you think I am. And when we were at the Ministry - " I stop suddenly as a thought occurs to me. "How did you know I impersonated you?" I ask slowly. "You never even saw me, except when I still looked like you. How'd you know it was me?"

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" Reg says. "Go on, keep moving!"

I wonder why he's so set on getting me into the house. Probably afraid one of his Muggle neighbors'll see him Stun me. All the more reason to stay out here, then. "I'm not moving till you listen to me," I say. "My name's Ron Weasley - I think you know my dad? - and I'm an Auror. I've come to help you and Mary, not hurt you."

The pressure from the wand lessens a little. "Arthur's son?" Reg says suspiciously. "You do have a look of him…"

"Think about it," I say, praying that Reg doesn't know my brother Percy. "Would Arthur Weasley's son be a Death Eater? My whole family are blood traitors."

Reg comes around to stand in front of me, staring warily into my face. "Keep your hands away from your pockets!" he warns. "I've still got my wand on you!" But he looks half-convinced now.

"My girlfriend's a Muggle-born, just like your wife," I tell him, pressing my advantage. "We had to go into hiding because she was wanted by that Muggle-Born Registration Commission." It's not exactly the real reason, but there's no point in going into all of that just now.

"Why're you here, then?" Reg demands. "Mary and I don't need any help from the Aurors - precious little good they're doing, anyway! You lot ought to concentrate on finding You-Know-Who, not badgering helpless citizens."

"We _have_ found him," I say. "He's dead."

Reg stares at me. "He's not," he says flatly. "This is a trick."

"Reg?" a woman's voice says from the edge of the yard. "What's taking so long? Can't you find it?"

"Don't come any closer, Mary!" Reg says. "And keep the kids back. I've got a Death Eater here."

"I'm not a Death Eater," I say, exasperated. "I keep telling you that."

"Says he's Arthur Weasley's son," Reg explains skeptically. "And he says he's an Auror - and that You-Know-Who's dead. Reckon he thinks I was born yesterday."

"He's dead?" Mary Cattermole says slowly. "_Really_ dead this time?"

"Yeah," I say. "I saw it happen. A whole lot of people did."

"Who killed him, then?" Reg demands. "And don't try to tell me it was you, because I'll never swallow that one!"

"It wasn't me," I say. "It was Harry. Harry Potter."

There's silence. Mary Cattermole moves closer, even though Reg is motioning her to go back. "He could be telling the truth, Reg," she says.

Reg looks torn. "Even if it's true about You-Know-Who, he's the one that impersonated me at the Ministry," he points out. "She showed me his picture."

Mary's face is as baffled as mine probably is. "Who did?" we both say at the same time.

"Lady who came to the Market last week," Reg says shiftily. "I didn't want to worry you, Mary. She said she was on our side - and then she showed me a picture of this one - " he jabs his wand in my direction "-and she said he was the one who passed himself off as me the day of your trial."

"What lady?" I ask, but Mary's already speaking.

"For heaven's sake, Reg," she says. "If that was him, he helped us! He told us to take the children and leave the country!"

Actually, I think it was Harry that said that - I just kept trying to tell her I wasn't her husband - but I'm not about to argue. I wait, watching Reg's face as the words sink in.

"You swear you're Arthur's son?" he asks at last. "And you're not a Death Eater?"

"Yeah," I say. "I mean - no, I'm not a Death Eater. Please, will you listen to me now?"

Mary takes charge. "Come into the house," she says to me. "I think we could all do with a nice cup of tea. Maisie, Ellie, Alfred - come along, now! And Reg, put that wand away before you hurt someone!"

Reg grins at me sheepishly and stuffs the wand in his pocket. "All right, then?" he asks, holding out a hand.

"Yeah," I say, shaking it. "Reg, the woman who talked to you - did she tell you her name?"

Reg nods. "Wouldn't have believed her if she hadn't been Amelia Bones' niece, but that's who she was," he says.

"Susan?" I say, stunned.

Reg nods again. "You know her, then?"

"I was at school with her," I say, still in shock. _Susan Bones?_ Maybe she was Confunded, or maybe…. "What'd she look like?" I ask.

Reg grins and looks over his shoulder to make sure that Mary's out of earshot. "Good-looking girl," he confides in a whisper. "Had a real nice shape to her, if you know what I mean!"

It's been a while since I've seen Susan, but she couldn't have changed that much. "Bones" is a good name for her - she's as skinny as a boy. "What color hair did she have?" I ask, just to be sure.

"Darkish, I think," Reg says doubtfully, scratching his head. "She'd a big hat on, and sunglasses."

"I don't know who you talked to," I say. "But it definitely wasn't Susan Bones."

"She said she was," Reg argues. "She showed me your picture from the _Daily Prophet_ - it had 'Wanted' printed under it."

I suppress a sigh, wondering why Reg was so willing to believe a complete stranger was Amelia Bones' niece when it took me fifteen minutes to convince him I was Dad's son. Maybe if I'd been a girl with a "nice shape", he'd have been a bit more willing to listen. "Would you know her again?" I ask.

"That I would," Reg says firmly. "Er - at least, I think so."

"Okay," I say, suppressing a sigh. "Look, let's go in and have that tea. I've got a lot to tell you."

Reg grins again and elbows me conspiratorially. "Might be we'll need something a bit stronger than tea," he says with a wink. "Mary doesn't approve of spirits, but I reckon this is what you might call a special occasion."

**Harry**

"What was it that you wanted me to hear about?" Hermione asks, slipping out of her cloak in the front hall. "That coin?"

"Yeah," I say. "If it really - hey, the elf heads are gone!"

"Kreacher did it," Hermione says. "I didn't quite like to ask where he put them."

"Anyway, that coin," I say, getting back to the main point. "If it was Slytherin's, it could be important."

"Why?" Hermione asks, looking alarmed. "You don't think it was a Horcrux, do you? Oh, Harry, there couldn't be another one!"

"No, I'm sure it's not a Horcrux," I say quickly. "We definitely got all of them - Voldemort as much as admitted it himself. No, I just thought that - well…" My voice trails off. _I thought it might be what Robards is looking for._ But I can't say that to Hermione.

Hermione's eyes narrow as she looks at me. "Harry, I don't want to talk you into telling me anything that you don't want to," she says. "But I can't help you if I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's not that I don't want to," I say miserably. "I can't. I've promised."

Hermione's face softens. "Promised who?" she asks. "Robards?"

I nod. "Sorry," I add.

"Don't apologize for keeping a promise," Hermione says briskly. She turns and starts up the stairs. "I'll have a look and see if I can find out anything about ancient coins, all right?"

"All right," I say gratefully. "Thanks, Hermione."

I wander into the sitting room after she's gone, too restless to go to bed. Part of me wants more than anything to call her back down and tell her everything. The idea of spreading all of this out in front of Hermione and letting her analytical mind go to work on it is tempting. But the other part of me - the part that's afraid of Robards and his Legilimency - keeps stopping me. If he just knew Ron and Hermione a bit better he'd know it was all right to tell them… even Dumbledore let me tell them about the Horcruxes.

_"Because he didn't think you could do it on your own,"_ I remind myself. But I can't do this on my own, either. It's always been the three of us. Maybe I should risk it, then. But not till after Saturday. Not till I've seen Ginny.

Ginny. I'll be seeing her in just a few days. Soothed by the thought, I go upstairs and to bed.

**Ron**

"…and after that we didn't have much trouble rounding up the Death Eaters that were left," I say. "Most of 'em are in Azkaban now. Oh, and Kingsley Shacklebolt's Minister of Magic."

My throat's hoarse from talking. I take a gulp from the teacup Reg hands me and almost choke on it. He's laced it pretty heavily with firewhisky.

"Shacklebolt's a good man," Reg says, nodding.

Mary leans forward anxiously. "Are you sure it's safe for us to go home?" she asks.

"Positive," I tell her. Actually, if someone's coming round trying to warn them off me, it means they've been spotted already. They're safer coming with me than staying here. But I don't want to bring that up just yet.

One of the little girls approaches - Maisie, I think her name is. "We were _supposed_ to get new shoes," she tells me. "Only Dad forgot his wallet."

"I can't get the hang of this paper stuff the Muggles use," Reg admits, grinning at me. "It doesn't seem like proper money, somehow."

"Now you can get shoes in Diagon Alley instead," I tell the little kid. "Make sure you stop in and see my brother - he's got a brilliant joke shop there." I'll send George an owl and ask him to give the Catttermole kids special attention. He'll do it - George is good like that.

Mary Cattermole smiles at me. "You seem awfully young to be an Auror," she says.

"I'm a trainee," I say. "I'm here with my partner." Bloody hell, I forgot all about Perdita.

"Excuse me for a minute," I say to the Cattermoles, hurrying to the door.

**Draco**

He's waiting for me by the gate. "What the hell are you playing at?" he whispers hoarsely, grabbing me by the wrist.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say coldly, trying to pull my wrist away. He's got a good grip for an old man. "I've made contact, just as you told me to do."

"I don't know what your idea of making contact is, but she assures me that you haven't approached her," Rodolphus says. "You've been wasting time squiring that little Clarke chit around - and don't bother lying, you've been seen!"

I stare at him, frozen. It's not Clarissa? But then who is she - and why did she say our jobs didn't matter?

"I know she's a pretty girl, but it won't do, you know," Rodolphus says, a bit more kindly. "Our sort don't marry blood traitors."

"Blood traitors?" I say. "No, you've got that wrong. She's a pureblood - the Clarkes were on our side."

Rodolphus laughs shortly. "Not _those_ Clarkes," he says. "Although I'll grant you it's an easy mistake to have made. If you'd taken up with one of the Surrey branch, now… but in any case, Draco, this is no time to be fooling about with women! You've got a job to do."

I can't speak. She's a blood traitor. And she's dating me. Spying on me?

"Tomorrow morning, you will go directly to the Department of Magical Creatures and give your contact the item that was in the envelope," Rodolphus says sternly. "I need not tell you to have an excuse ready, in case you're seen."

Magical Creatures? Great. She works with Granger. That'll really brighten my day. Hey, maybe I could just ask Granger who she hates the most in the Department - that ought to narrow it down a bit. There's no hope for it - I'm going to have to tell Rodolphus I lost the envelope.

"What if she's not there?" I blurt out, stalling.

Rodolphus frowns. "If she is not there, you will return later," he says coldly. "Our plan is at a standstill until the item in question has been handed over. Do not fail me in this, Draco. Nephew or not, I'll see that you suffer for it if you do!"

He drops his hand from my arm, turns sharply, and Disapparates.

I just stand there for a minute after he's gone. Now what? Finally, I turn and go into the house. Lurleen's just coming out of the sitting room with a tray in her hands. She starts at the sight of me.

"I live here, remember?" I say sharply. The girl's a complete fool - but then again, she puts up with Mother.

Lurleen gulps and turns away. "He's back, ma'am!" she calls over her shoulder.

_Thanks a lot, Lurleen._ I give her a surly look as I pass, but she pretends not to see it.

"Draco?" Mother's beckoning to me from the sofa. "How was your dinner, darling?"

"Fine," I say, resigning myself. She must want something.  
>She does, as a matter of fact. "I'm sure you remember Millicent Bulstrode," she says. "You were at school with her, weren't you?"<p>

"Yes," I say. It's hard to forget a girl who's twice your size.

"I understand she's started at the Ministry," Mother says. "It would be nice if you looked her up, wouldn't it?"

No. Wait a minute, though. "Which Department?" I ask. Maybe it's her…

"Magical Accidents and Catastrophes," Mother says, to my intense disappointment. It's not Millicent, then.

"Such a lovely girl," Mother says. "Maybe you could take her to lunch or something."

The Bulstrodes - like the Parkinsons - got off completely except for a second cousin and an uncle or two. Millicent's not going to want to be associated with me anymore than Pansy does. Mother hasn't seemed to realize that we're not exactly the family to be seen with at the moment.

"Maybe," I say noncommittally. A sudden thought strikes me. "You've got a book somewhere that lists all the pureblood families, don't you?" I ask.

"Not a book, darling," Mother corrects me. "A register."

Whatever. "Could I borrow it?" I ask. "I was just thinking - if I'm going to start dating girls at the Ministry, I'd better make sure I know what sort of families they come from."

"Well, you needn't worry about Millicent Bulstrode," Mother says, but she looks at me approvingly. "I'm glad to see you're thinking about these things, Draco. One can never be too careful."

"Exactly," I say. There's bound to be a list somewhere of everyone who works in Magical Creatures. All I have to do is cross-reference it with Mother's register to see which ones are the pureblood females and narrow it down from there.

**Ron**

"You're right about one thing," Perdita says. "The Cattermoles are definitely going to be safer in London where we can keep an eye on them."

It's late. The Cattermoles have all gone to bed, but Perdita and I are sitting on the front steps finishing off the rest of Reg's firewhisky. It's the first chance I've had to talk to her alone since she got here.

"I don't want to scare them, but it'd be nice if we could get Reg to hurry things up a bit," I say. "He keeps saying he's got all sorts of things he has to do before he can leave - and he wants to run his stall at the Market tomorrow."

"It might not be a bad idea to let him," Perdita says slowly. "Just to see who turns up."

"You think that woman might come back?" I ask. "The one who warned him about me?"

"I don't think they'd use her twice," Perdita says. "If they've been watching this place, they're bound to know we're here."

I peer nervously into the dark woods surrounding the house.

"They won't try anything," Perdita says. "Not with both of us sitting here. And we'll have the Cattermoles under twenty-four hour guard as soon as they get back to London. But I don't think they're the target."

Someone coughs inside the house, and I look back over my shoulder, even though I did a _Muffliato_ Charm as soon as we came out here.

"Who is, then?" I ask. "Me?" I almost want to laugh, because it seems so ridiculous. I mean, Harry, yeah. And even Hermione, being that she's a Muggle-born - but me? "Perdita, how did they know we'd be coming for the Catttermoles?" I ask. "And how did they know  
>about me impersonating Reg? Hardly anyone knows that story."<p>

"I don't know," Perdita says slowly. "Mind, anyone could have heard you telling me about it the night we were watching Crabbe's house. But as for them knowing our plans… well, I hate to say it, but there must be a leak in the Department somewhere. Unless - well, you didn't tell anyone where we were going, did you?"

"Just Hermione and Harry," I say. "Neither one of them would've told. What about you?"

"Just Marvin," Perdita says. "He wouldn't have said, either."

We stare at each other for a minute. "Well, we can't do anything about it tonight," Perdita says briskly. "We'll sit down with Gawain when we get back. Mind you don't tell him your girlfriend knows."

"Hermione'd never - " I begin hotly, but Perdita holds up a hand.

"I know she wouldn't," she says. "Gawain's suspicious of everyone, that's all."

I wonder if Perdita's going to tell him Marvin knows. I'll bet she's not. "We never had that drink," I say, remembering suddenly. "It was supposed to be tonight, wasn't it?"

Perdita laughs. "Between my job and Marvin's, our plans are always being changed at the last minute," she says. "We'll try again when we get back - although at this rate I'll be married to him before you ever lay eyes on him."

"When are you getting married, anyway?" I ask.

Perdita shrugs. "Sometime after Marvin qualifies, which should be in April," she says.

I do a quick calculation in my head. That's only six months off. "You're pretty calm about it," I say, remembering Mum and Fleur. "Shouldn't you be panicking about bridesmaids and flowers and stuff?"

Perdita laughs again. "We're not having a big wedding," she says. "We'll probably just go off by ourselves for a weekend and come back married. Anyway, Marvin's family are Muggles, you know. They wouldn't understand our sort of wedding."

I notice she didn't say anything about her own family. "Perdita," I say hesitantly, and then stop. It's none of my business.

"It's all right," Perdita says quietly. "I thought someone would have told you by now."

"Told me what?" I ask, confused. Maybe there was some big scandal about the Duckworthy family.

Perdita sighs and reaches for her firewhisky. "My family supported Voldemort," she says briefly. "Not openly - none of them were Death Eaters - but they thought he had the right idea, getting rid of the Muggle-borns. I was supposed to make a nice, pureblood marriage."

"Oh," I say. "So that's why you don't talk - because of Marvin?"

"No," Perdita corrects me. "I didn't talk to them _before_ I got engaged to Marvin. I don't even use my family name. Duckworthy was my grandmother's maiden name - I took it for myself when I left school."

"Sorry," I say awkwardly. "Look, have a wedding anyway, yeah? Hermione and I'll come - so will Harry."

Perdita smiles at me sadly. "Thanks for not letting it make a difference," she says softly.

"I knew Sirius Black," I remind her. "I know that good people can come from - er- " I manage to stop myself just in time before I finish the sentence with the words "bad families". I've _definitely_ had enough firewhisky.

"Maybe we ought to watch in turns," Perdita says, changing the subject abruptly. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

She sounds like she wants to be alone for a while. "Okay," I say, getting up. "Wake me in a few hours."

Perdita nods absently, staring off into the trees.

"Perdita?" I say, pausing in the doorway. "What was your name before?"

"Gamp," Perdita says, not turning. "That Damaris who's giving your Hermione such a hard time is my second cousin."

**Hermione**

I thought I was getting used to unwelcome sights in the House-Elf Relocation Office, but nothing could have prepared me for seeing Draco Malfoy bent intently over something on Damaris's desk.

"What do you think you're doing in here?" I demand, pointing my wand at him.

Malfoy looks up, startled. An evil smile spreads slowly across his face as he looks at me. "I heard they were accepting Mudbloods here and I had to check it out for myself," he retorts.

"Get out," I say, jabbing the wand at him threateningly.

Malfoy laughs. "I wouldn't stay in the same room with you for all the gold in Gringotts," he says, but I notice he doesn't quite dare to turn his back on me as he edges toward the door.

"Out," I say again. "And if I find anything's been touched, I'll - "

"Relax, Granger," Malfoy says, allowing himself to look bored now that he's safely reached the doorway. "I'm not interested in your precious house-elves. I was just looking for the other girl who works here."

"Damaris?" I say suspiciously. "Why?"

Malfoy waves an envelope at me. "Got a message for her from Madam Edgecombe," he says.

"Give it to me, then," I say stiffly. "Or leave it on her desk."

Malfoy raises an eyebrow at me. "I think not," he says, managing somehow to make this sound insulting. "I believe I'll leave it with the secretary up front."

I give him five minutes and then hurry out to see Miranda.

"Yeah, he left something for her," Miranda confirms. "So that's Lucius Malfoy's son? He's a bit - "

"Miranda, if you _dare_ to say he's sexy-looking, I'll never speak to you again!" I threaten.

Miranda laughs. "I wasn't," she says. "I was going to say arrogant."

"Oh," I say. "Yeah, he's that all right." I look longingly at the envelope. "Don't suppose he told you what was in it?"

"As a matter of fact, he did," Miranda says. "Edgecombe promised to notify Damaris when the new updated Firebolts had been approved."

I try - and fail - to picture Damaris on a broom. "What do you think she wants to know that for?" I ask curiously.

Miranda shrugs. "Probably wants to show off by being the first to own one or something," she says cynically.

That fits with my impression of Damaris. I go back to my office and spend the next half hour checking everything thoroughly, but if Malfoy did anything, I can't find it. Maybe he was telling the truth and he really was just delivering a message. Still, I can't quite relax. _Well, it'll please Harry,_ I think to myself. _He's been dying to get something on Malfoy._

As a matter of fact, maybe Harry ought to know about this right away.

**Harry**

"That's the lot," Persimmon says, dropping a final folder onto the pile. "Goodness, Harry - are you sure you don't want to make two trips?"

"I can manage," I say. Some of the folders have loose pages, so I don't dare use a Locomotor Charm in case I lose something. I stagger back from the Record Room and drop the towering stack on Robards' desk. "Here you are," I say. "Now what?"

"Now, Mr. Potter, we shall begin our research," Robards says. "As you know, there are a number of individuals who have somehow managed to avoid capture. If we read carefully, we may be able to discover a clue as to their current whereabouts."

"So you want me to look up everything I can about missing Death Eaters in these files?" I say.

"I believe I just said that," Robards remarks dryly.

I reach for the topmost folder. "Who am I looking for, then?"

Robards glances down at a sheet of paper in front of him. "You may begin with Simon Parkinson," he says. "And you won't find him in there, Mr. Potter. Unless Persimmon's radically changed our filing system, he ought to be in one of the "P" folders."

I look down at the folder in my hand - "Ca-Ce" - and exchange it quickly for the right one. "Is Simon related to Pansy Parkinson?" I ask.

"Older brother," Robards says briefly. "You know the family, then?"

"I know Pansy," I say, a little bitterly. I still remember her saying they ought to hand me over to Voldemort. I can't believe that whole family got off. Except -

"I thought we didn't have anything on them," I say, looking up.

"We don't," Robards says. "Yet. However, young Simon has apparently taken the precaution of disappearing. It rather makes one think, doesn't it?"

"Just a bit," I say, grinning. For a minute I almost think he's going to smile back, but he merely looks at me for a minute and then turns back to the parchment in his hand.

I open the folder and start reading. After a few minutes I'm so absorbed that I don't see the memo swooping toward me until it's too late. I duck, but it still knocks my glasses off. Robards looks up from whatever he's reading. "Is that for you?" he asks, sounding surprised.

"Yeah," I say, trying to seem casual about it. I've never gotten an interoffice memo before, although Robards gets them several times a day. This one's definitely mine, though - it's my name on the front, and that's Hermione's writing.

I don't want to open it in front of Robards - what if she's written something about the coin and he reads my mind? - but he's staring at me, waiting. I rip it open, trying to make my mind a blank.

I needn't have worried, though - Hermione's far too discreet. The note's short, and vague-sounding enough so that most people wouldn't have a clue what she means:

_Remember our old friend from Hogwarts that you asked me to look out for? He was in my office today, but not to see me. Meet me for lunch and I'll tell you all about it._

Robards is still watching me. "A friend wants me to meet her for lunch," I say, tucking the note in my pocket. I glance at my watch. It's almost noon. "Do you mind if I go now?"

Robards waves me off. "Go, go," he mutters, picking up a folder from the stack.

Hermione's waiting for me at the Café entrance. "Let's get a table in the corner," she says in a low voice.

There's hardly anyone here yet, but I do a quick _Muffliato_ anyway. "Okay," I say, leaning forward. "What was Malfoy doing in your office?"

**Hermione**

I almost wish I hadn't told Harry about Malfoy, because now he wants me to find out if he delivered envelopes to anyone else in the Department and I can't think how I'm going to manage it without looking like a complete idiot.

"You'll think of something," Harry says vaguely, when I attempt to point this out. "I'd do it myself, but I'm in the middle of something with Robards."

I think about saying that I've got work to do, too - only I haven't. There's nothing at all to do unless another elf comes in. "Fine," I say, a bit crossly.

Harry flashes me a smile. "Thanks, Hermione," he says. "I'd better get back."

He heads for the lift, but I take the stairs so I'll have time to think. It's going to be rather awkward. The different Offices seem to keep to themselves, and I haven't said anything besides "hello" to most of the other employees.

The problem's solved for me when I return to find Miranda fretting over a box on her desk. "Look at this, will you," she demands furiously, waving a roll of parchment at me. "He just dropped it here and wandered off to take a nap!"

"He's" Wilton, presumably. "What is it?" I ask, nodding at the box.

"New Department badges," Miranda says. "Want to see? They're quite nice, actually - only Wilton should have given them to me to hand out a week ago and he forgot until Diggory called him on it at a meeting this morning. And now I've got to drop everything and do it - and bloody Diggory wants the meeting minutes immediately and I still need to - "

"Relax," I say. "I'll take them round for you."

Miranda looks at me gratefully. "You're a lifesaver, Hermione," she says. "You're sure you don't mind?"

"Not a bit," I say, feeling a bit guilty. I'm not doing it to be nice - I'm doing it so I can find out about Malfoy for Harry. Only I'm sure I would have offered to help her in any case…

"Here, then," Miranda says, shoving the box at me unceremoniously. "Don't forget to take one for yourself."

I lift out a badge and examine it before pinning it to the front of my robes. It's a gold badge in the shape of a dragon with the letters "R.C.M.C." engraved on it.

"You'd need a badge the size of a house to fit 'Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures' on it," Miranda explains. "So they just put the initials. Mind, everyone in the Beings and Spirits Divisions is going to complain because it's a dragon - they say the Beast Division people always get their own way. But how could we do a badge in the shape of a ghost?"

_Well, Charlie's bound to like it,_ I think, putting a Locomotor Charm on the box so I can open the door to the Goblin Liasion Office.

"Ooh, the new badges," a girl says, looking up from her desk. "Let's see one."

Several other people hurry over, including a few from Werewolf Support Services in the next office. Just as Miranda predicted, I hear a bit of grumbling about the shape, but most people seem pleased.

Just as I'm wondering how to approach the subject of Draco Malfoy, I notice an open copy of _Which Broomstick_ on someone's desk.

"Has that got anything about the new Firebolt in it?" I ask the wizard sitting there. "My boyfriend really wants one of those."

This, at least, is true - or it would be if Ron actually knew there was going to be a new Firebolt coming out.

"Not a word," the wizard says, smiling at me as he takes a badge. "They're being quite cagey about it, but I think - "

Another woman turns. "Are you talking about the new Firebolt?" she asks. "Someone left a letter for Margaret this morning that was supposed to tell all about it, but when she opened it there was nothing but a blank piece of parchment inside!"

"Which one's Margaret?" I ask.

"That's her, there," the woman says, pointing.

I make my way across the room to a girl a few years older than me who looks vaguely familiar. "I know you," she says, smiling. "You were in my brother's year. I'm Margaret MacMillan."

"Ernie's sister," I say, smiling back. No wonder she looked familiar - she was a Hufflepuff prefect my first year. "I'm Hermione Granger. How's Ernie?"

Margaret starts to tell me, but I'm scarcely listening. "Someone said you got a letter about the new Firebolt," I interrupt finally.

"It must have been a joke," Margaret says. "There was nothing in there but a blank piece of parchment - and anyway, everyone who knows me knows I'm horrible at flying!"

By the time I've handed out the last of the badges, I've discovered that two other girls besides Margaret got envelopes - and both of them, like hers, contained nothing but blank pages.

**Harry**

"What about Invisible Ink?" I say, pacing up and down. "There could have been secret messages in there."

"I thought of that," Hermione says. "But every one of them told me they Vanished the parchment when they saw it was blank, so there's no good in worrying about it now. Anyway, why would Malfoy pass a secret message to Margaret MacMillan? Surely you don't suspect _her_ of being in league with him!"

I can't help smiling - a bit reluctantly - at the idea of Ernie's sister in a secret alliance with Draco Malfoy. "Hardly," I say. "Who were the others again?"

"Lydia Smith and Fiona Cornfoot," Hermione says. "I don't know either of them, but they didn't strike me as Death Eater types. Oh, and Damaris, of course."

"You couldn't get a look at that envelope Malfoy left for her, could you?" I ask, without much hope. It's probably the kind of thing Hermione would think was dishonest.

"I tried, but Miranda never left her desk all afternoon, and it would have looked awfully odd if I'd asked to see it," Hermione says coolly. "Maybe if I get in early enough tomorrow…"

"Margaret MacMillan," I say thoughtfully. "Lydia Smith, Fiona Cornfoot, and Damaris - what's her surname again?"

"Gamp," Hermione says. "Why - have you thought of something?"

I shake my head. "Just thinking out loud," I say. "Can you think of anything those four would have in common?"

Hermione shrugs. "Just that they all work in the same Department at the Ministry, and that's certainly no secret," she says.

She passes a hand over her eyes tiredly. "I'm going to bed," she says. "Good night, Harry."

I go over the names in my head again after she's gone. Gamp… why does that sound familiar? I don't think I've _heard_ the name, exactly - it's more like I've _seen_ it somewhere.

And suddenly I know. I turn and go into the drawing room and look at the wall. It's still there - "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black." It takes me a minute to spot it, but at last I do. Sirius Black - the great-grandfather of my Sirius Black - married a Hester Gamp about a hundred years or so ago.

_"That doesn't make Damaris a Death Eater,"_ I remind myself. _"It just means she's from a pureblood family."_ Still, I'll bet this is one theory Hermione's going to approve of.

**Ron**

The light's still on, but Hermione's sound asleep with her house-elf book in her hand - and she's wearing what looks like my Chudley Cannons sweatshirt.

I'm trying to be quiet, but naturally I manage to trip over my bag when I turn around. Hermione's eyes open.

"Sorry," I say, bending to kiss her. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wanted you to," Hermione says, wrapping her arms around my neck. "I was hoping you'd come back tonight." She nestles against me, warm and sleepy. In a minute she's going to wake up properly and start firing questions at me, but for now I just enjoy the moment.

"You look cute in my sweatshirt," I say. "Were you cold?"

"Not exactly," Hermione says. "I - I just missed you, that's all. I thought it would help to wear your shirt, but it wasn't the same, really."

Every once in a while she says something like that, and it always takes me by surprise - maybe because she's so practical most of the time. "I missed you, too," I say, pulling her a bit closer.

"Did you find the Cattermoles?" Hermione asks a minute later. I reckon she's woken up the rest of the way.

"Yeah, they were right where we thought," I say, kicking off my shoes and settling down next to her. There's a lot more to the story than that, but I'm too tired to get into it tonight. A few hours of sleep on the Cattermoles' lumpy sofa didn't exactly do it for me. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, all right?" I could fall asleep right now…

"Aren't you going to get undressed?" Hermione asks, leaning over me. "And you haven't brushed your teeth yet!"

She sounds horrified. Personally I don't think all my teeth are going to fall out if I miss the occasional night, but Hermione's got a big thing about it on account of her parents being dentists.

"I'll go in a minute," I say, not opening my eyes.

"You could do with a shave, too," Hermione says, running her finger along my jawbone. "Honestly, Ron - did you even _look_ at a razor the whole time you were gone?"

I give up. "Are you going to be awake when I come back?" I ask, rolling off the bed. If I have to shave in the middle of the night, there'd better be something in it for me.

Hermione smiles at me invitingly. "I'll be awake," she says.

**Hermione**

"You know, I can see why the Cattermoles picked Tillage Green to hide in," Ron says much later, just as we're drifting off to sleep. "It was nice, that little village. The sort of place we could live in ourselves - except it was all Muggles."

Now I'm wide-awake. "Live in?" I repeat. "Us?"

"Well, not right now, obviously," Ron says. "Later, after we're married. Only we'd have to find a wizarding community - otherwise we'd stick out a bit."

I've only heard one word. _"Married?"_ I say.

"Well, yeah," Ron says, sounding surprised. "We _are_ going to get married someday, aren't we?"

I sit up. "Of course we are," I say crossly. "But you might have asked me."

Ron sits up, too. "I didn't think I had to - all right, fine! Have it your way!" he says, sounding exasperated. "Hermione, will you marry me?"

My eyes fill suddenly with tears - I can't think why. "Yes," I whisper.

"Good," Ron says, lying down again and pulling me along with him. "Now that's settled, can we get some sleep?" 


	13. Chapter 13

**Ron**

"It won't do, you know," Hermione says, fixing me with a steely look as I come back into the room after my shower.

"What won't?" I ask. I can't have done anything wrong yet - it's too early.

"That proposal," Hermione says. "If that's what you want to call it."

Oh, _that_. It wasn't how I'd meant to do it - I was going to wait till I had a ring and then ask her properly - but she sort of took me by surprise. "Will I do it over, then?" I ask, wondering if she expects me to get down on one knee. I can't help thinking it'd look a bit more impressive if I was wearing something besides a towel.

"Tonight will do," Hermione says calmly. "It'll give you time to plan something romantic."

Romantic's not one of my best things, but I'm willing to give it a go if that's what she wants. I wish I hadn't given Neville my copy of _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_, but I was afraid Hermione would find it. Anyway, I don't think there was anything about proposals in there. Probably whoever wrote the book reckoned that if you'd got to that stage, you didn't need their help anymore. "We could go to dinner," I offer cautiously. There must be some romantic sort of place I can take her - maybe Perdita will know one.

"That's a start," Hermione says.

A _start_? This is going to be harder than I thought. "You leave it all to me," I say, with a confidence I'm definitely not feeling. "You just go out at lunch and find yourself something pretty to wear, and I'll meet you back here after work."

"All right," Hermione says, turning back to the mirror.

I take that as a signal that I'm allowed to get dressed now. "You're still going to say yes, aren't you?" I ask.

"Maybe," Hermione says. "Let's see how well you do it."

**Harry**

"So what happened at the Farmers Market?" I ask, reaching for another piece of toast. "Did anyone show up?"

"No one but a lot of vegetable-loving Muggles," Ron says, shrugging. "Perdita and I put Disillusionment Charms on ourselves and stood behind Reg at his stall for about five hours, and nothing happened."

"Because they knew you were there," Hermione says. "It's obvious, isn't it? You and Perdita wouldn't have just found the Cattermoles and then left them there."

"Well, at least Reg sold off the rest of his vegetables," Ron says philosophically. "He tried to get me to take some squash home, but I told him both of you were allergic to it."

"So where are they now?" I ask. "Back home?"

Ron nods. "Their house had been gone through by the Death Eaters, but it was in pretty good shape," he says. "We helped them settle in, and then the night guard showed up and we went home."

Hermione looks relieved. "I'm glad someone's watching out for them," she says. "Will Reg be able to come back to work?"

"His old job's waiting for him whenever he wants it," Ron says. "Mind, he didn't seem too thrilled about it, if you ask me - I think he liked puttering about the garden all day. But Mary was glad to be home again."

"Either of you have any ideas about who might have been impersonating Susan Bones?" I ask.

"Damaris," Hermione offers, and then laughs. "But only because I don't like her."

"You might not be so far wrong," I tell her. "Come have a look at this."

The two of them follow me into the drawing room, looking mystified. "There," I say, pointing triumphantly at Hesper Gamp's name.

"I knew it," Hermione says happily. "Are you going to investigate her, Harry?"

Ron folds his arms. "The Potters are on there, too," he points out. "So're the Weasleys - or we would be, if we hadn't been blasted off. This doesn't prove anything except that Hesper Gamp was a pureblood."

"Yeah, I know," I say, taken aback by the look on his face. "I just thought it was sort of interesting, that's all."

"We'd better get going," Hermione says quickly, glancing at her watch. "I don't want to be late - and you'll have to make a report to Robards, won't you, Ron?"

"Are you in on this?" Ron asks me, several minutes later. He points at Robards' closed door as he speaks.

"Dunno," I say. "I guess so, if he doesn't throw me out. Don't worry - I won't let on that you told us everything already."

"Thanks," Ron says. "And Perdita said not to let on that Hermione knows anything about it, either."

"Surely he doesn't suspect - " I begin, just as the door opens.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley," Robards says. "And Mr. Potter. Come in, both of you. Miss Duckworthy was just about to give me her report."

**Hermione**

"Is there a Muggle dress shop anywhere near here?" I ask Miranda. It'll have to be a Muggle shop - all I've got is the money Mum and Dad sent me for clothes, and there isn't time to get it changed (even if I dared to go inside Gringotts).

"There's one in the next block," Miranda says at once. "I've never actually been inside, but they have lovely things in the window." She sets her quill down and looks up at me expectantly. "Big night planned?"

"Something like that," I say, purposely vague. Miranda's the closest thing I have to a friend in the Ministry, but I want to keep this to myself for a bit. "I thought I could go at lunch time."

Once in my office, I suddenly remember my promise to Harry. I wish I'd thought to bring _A History of Magic_ to work with me - there's not going to be anything about ancient monetary systems in the files here. There might in Magical Records, though…

A few minutes later I'm standing in front of the same clerk that helped me before. "I'm looking for a copy of _A History of Magic_," I say. "Have you got one here that I could borrow?"

The clerk laughs. "We've got about a dozen of them," he says. "Any particular edition?"

"Whichever's the most up-to-date," I say.

The clerk laughs again. "They're all the same," he says. "Old Bathilda only wrote it once, didn't she?" He points his wand at a shelf behind my head, and I duck just in time as a book comes flying toward us. "Just sign it out and you can take it with you," the clerk says, producing a quill. "It's three Sickles a day if you keep it past a week, mind!"

"I don't need to take it," I say. "I've just got to look something up." I move to a chair at the edge of the room. It takes me less than fifteen minutes to confirm what I already suspected. Wizards in Slytherin's time used actual gold pieces as currency. Rabastan Lestrange's Galleon may well have been quite old, but it most certainly did not belong to Salazar Slytherin.

I'm unpleasantly surprised to find Damaris at her desk when I return to the office. "Er, hello," I say tentatively.

Damaris doesn't even bother looking up. "Are these _all_ my messages?" she demands, brandishing a few scraps of parchment at me.

Honestly. Does she think I'd steal them? "Go ask Miranda," I say shortly. "I think Draco Malfoy left you an envelope yesterday." I turn my back on her, pretending to look through my desk for something.

A few seconds later I hear raised voices. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I move cautiously to the open door and peek out.

"But it was right here yesterday!" Miranda's protesting. "I can't think what could have happened to it."

Damaris looks furious. "You may have lost something very important!" she says icily.

"Oh, but it wasn't," Miranda protests. "He told me what was inside it - he said it was about the release of the new Firebolt."

Damaris stares at her blankly. "The new Firebolt?" she says. "Why the hell would I want to know about that?"

"Well, I don't know," Miranda says. "Maybe they just wanted to make sure all of the really important people in the Ministry were notified. Tell you what - I'll go up to Magical Transportation myself and ask Madam Edgecombe for another one."

"You needn't bother," Damaris says, looking mollified. "If no more elves have come in, I believe I'll go to lunch."

Lunch, indeed. It's only half-past ten. I wait for her to sweep out before approaching Miranda's desk. "The _really important people in the Ministry_?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Miranda says, grinning at me. "I can't think what I did with the bloody thing - maybe it got swept into the rubbish bin by mistake."

Maybe. Or maybe someone else got to it first.

_But it was blank,_ I remind myself. _They were all blank._ Only I suppose we'll never know for certain now.

**Ron**

"So whoever impersonated Miss Bones knew that you, yourself, had impersonated Reg Cattermole," Robards says thoughtfully. "How many people know that story, Mr. Weasley?"

Harry and I look at each other. "Well, Hermione was with us, obviously," I say. "And we told Kingsley, of course - and my brother George."

"My girlfriend knows, too," Harry says. "But she'd never tell anybody."

Robards fixes him with a look that reminds me of the one Hermione gave me this morning. He starts to say something, but Perdita interrupts.

"I knew the story, too, Gawain," she says. "Ron told me the whole thing one night when we were keeping watch. We'd done a _Muffliato_ Charm, but I suppose someone might have overheard us talking."

"They wouldn't," Harry says positively. "They might hear your voices, but they wouldn't be able to make out the words."

Robards clears his throat. "In a moment, I shall ask one of you to demonstrate this er - _Muffliato?_ - charm, since I seem to be unfamiliar with it," he says. "But first, allow me to point out that you are all overlooking the obvious."

We all stare at him blankly.

"You were discovered before you were able to escape the Ministry, were you not?" Robards says. "And one of the reasons you were discovered was - "

"Because there were two Reg Cattermoles," I say. "Only Harry might have been one of them - how'd they know it was me?"

"Did it matter?" Robards says. "Surely it was sufficient to know that it was one or the other of you. The real Reg Cattermole wouldn't know the difference."

Perdita leans forward. "Gawain, do you think they're in any danger?" she asks. "There was that business with the perfume - and now they seem to be singling Ron out…"

"We shall keep a close eye on the three of them," Robards says. "But I don't think they're in any particular danger."

I can't help wondering _why_ he thinks that, but he's already turning to Harry. "Mr. Potter, we have work to do," he says. "Please ask Persimmon for the files we were reading yesterday. Miss Duckworthy, Mr. Weasley - take today off and report to the Cattermole home at six this evening for guard duty.

Perdita nods, but I feel a sinking sensation. Hermione's going to kill me. "Couldn't we take the day shift instead?" I blurt out. "I've got - er - something important I need to do tonight."

Perdita shoots me a horrified look. I guess you're not supposed to question assignments. Robards looks more surprised than annoyed, though. "Why?" he asks.

I can't tell him I have to re-propose. "It's - sort of personal," I say. I can feel my ears getting red.

"Miss Duckworthy, if you'd allow us a moment," Robards says. He waits for Perdita to leave the room. "Mr. Weasley, if you cannot provide me with an excellent reason for doing so, then I see no need to adjust your assignment," he says. His voice is so cold there're practically icicles dripping off the words.

There's nothing else for it - I'm going to have to tell him. "I have to propose to Hermione again tonight, and if I don't do it properly this time, she's going to kill me," I say, looking down at my feet.

Robards makes an odd sort of choking noise, but when I look up at him, his face is blank. "Am I to infer that you have already proposed _improperly_?" he asks.

"Well, sort of," I say. "I didn't mean for it to come out the way it did, but it was late and I just wanted to go to sleep."

Robards makes the choking noise again. I wonder if he's got something stuck in his throat. "Do you want a glass of water?" I ask uncertainly.

Robards waves me off. "We've all been there, Mr. Weasley," he says after a moment. "Very well, you have my permission to take the day shift of guard duty. You and Miss Duckworthy will report to the Cattermole residence at once."

"Thanks," I say, hurrying to the door before he can change his mind.

"Mr. Weasley," Robards says. "Flowers are always a nice touch."

Right - flowers. I knew there was something else I ought to have thought of. "Thanks," I say again. I can't help thinking Harry's got Robards all wrong. He's not so bad when you get to know him.

**Harry**

Robards has a funny expression on his face when I come back in. If he were anyone else, I'd think he was trying not to laugh, but I don't think he knows how.

"I've brought the files," I say.

Robards' face is immediately serious again. "Never mind the files just now," he says. "Close the door, please."

I do as he's asked, and then sit down across from him, wondering. I hope this isn't about me telling Ginny about what happened at the Ministry last year. After all, no one ever told us to keep it quiet - even though we have, pretty much.

It turns out I needn't have worried. Robards is concerned about something a great deal more serious. "Someone knew that Miss Duckworthy and Mr. Weasley had been sent to locate the Cattermoles," he says abruptly. "That leaves only two possibilities. One of them was indiscreet about their assignment - or there is a leak within the Auror Department. Which do you think it is, Mr. Potter?"

He fires the question at me so rapidly that I don't have time to think. "Er," I say, stalling. But Ron didn't tell anyone except Hermione, and I'd swear on my life she'd never say a word to anyone. Kreacher; there's Kreacher… but he's loyal to us now. I'd stake my life on that as well. Maybe Perdita - but surely a fully-trained Auror would know enough not to go babbling about her assignment…

Robards is still watching me. I remember my Occlumency too late. But I don't think he's tried to read my mind - I didn't feel him doing it, anyway. "There's got to be a leak," I say quickly.

"Yes," Robards says, after a long moment. "I quite agree with you, Mr. Potter - although I'm quite sure that both Mr. Weasley's girlfriend and Miss Duckworthy's fiancé were fully cognizant of the situation. However, they've both proven themselves to be trustworthy in the past, and I see no reason to believe that has changed."

"Whoever it was had to have found out almost immediately after you'd given them the assignment," I point out, deciding it's probably better not to respond to his last statement. "Because they'd have had to find the Cattermoles themselves, and then get out there to show Reg that picture of Ron."

"They may have already known where the Cattermoles were hiding," Robards says. "But it would indeed have taken some time to plant the false suggestion about Mr. Weasley. Now, Mr. Potter, what does all this suggest to you about our spy?"

I take my time, thinking about it. "It's someone who was here in the Ministry when we broke in last year," I say. "And the same person has to have been in the office a few days ago when you told Ron and Perdita to go find the Cattermoles." I look up expectantly. "Who does that leave?"

"Any number of people," Robards says resignedly. "The person we are seeking need not have been present on either occasion - they need only to have heard about it from another source."

I look at him blankly. "But - then it could be practically anyone!" I say.

"Precisely," Robards says. He picks up one of the folders from his desk. "Let's go over the things you have learned about Simon Parkinson," he says.

That's it? That's all he's going to say? "But - aren't you going to do anything?" I say, unable to stop myself.

"Oh, yes," Robards says calmly. "I have every intention of doing something."

And he's not going to tell me what - that much is clear enough. Still, though… "Can I ask one more question?" I venture.

Robards raises an inquiring eyebrow.

"How do you know I'm not the spy?" I ask. "I was here when you gave Ron and Perdita that assignment - and I knew Ron impersonated Reg Cattermole in the Ministry."

Robards opens the folder in front of him and begins leafing through it. "Mr. Potter, it was immediately obvious that you weren't at fault," he says, sounding almost bored. "In the first place, Mr. Weasley is one of your closest friends, is he not? You'd hardly be responsible for putting him in danger. And in the second place - well, let's say that you have proven your discretion to me on more than one occasion. Now, the Parkinsons, if you please."

I open my folder obediently, but I'm secretly pleased. He almost said he trusts me now - didn't he? "I'm pretty sure Simon's in Spain," I say. "His parents own a villa there that you use for holidays."

**Ron**

All three Cattermole kids are on me the second we walk through the door. "Mum, Ron's here!" Maisie calls. "He's come to take us to his brother's joke shop, just like he promised!"

I don't think that's exactly how I put it - but all three of them are looking up at me with big, blue eyes, and I'd have to have a heart of stone to say no. "What do you reckon?" I say to Perdita. "Safe enough?"

"I don't see why not," Perdita says, looking amused. "There are two of us."

Mary Cattermole appears at the foot of the stairs. "Children, you're not to bother the Aurors about taking you to Diagon Alley," she says firmly. "I'm sure they've more important things to take care of."

"Actually, we don't," I admit. "So if you've got any shopping you need to do - "

Mary comes to life at the word "shopping". "Let me get my list," she says, scurrying off toward what I guess must be the kitchen. "Reg? _Reg!_ You'll need to go to Gringotts and get that Muggle money changed. Maisie, Ellie, Alfred - are your hands clean?"

Reg blinks at us amiably from the kitchen doorway. "I might just as well go on ahead, then," he says. "There might be a wait at Gringotts."

I throw a panicky look at Perdita, and she grins at me. "I take it you haven't made an appearance there yet?" she asks.

"Nope," I say. "Good thing I haven't got any money." And that's another thing. I've got my pay from the Aurors, and even after I forced Harry to take some money for food, there's enough left so I can manage dinner - and even flowers. But a ring… I really ought to have a ring for her…

"Are you all right?" Maisie asks, looking up at me. "Your face looks sort of funny."

"I can't help it," I tell her. "I was born with a funny face."

All three kids think that's hysterical. "You and I can go on to the bank, Reg," Perdita says, talking loud so he can hear her over the noise. "Ron, we'll meet the rest of you at the Leaky Cauldron in about a half-hour."

"Alfred, what's that on your face?" Mary demands from behind Reg. "And Ellie, you can't wear those socks if you're going to be trying shoes on - they're the ones with a big hole in the toe. And Maisie - "

She sounds like Mum. "We're going," Maisie says, heading quickly for the stairs. "Come on, you two - hurry!"

Mary smiles at me apologetically when they've gone. "You don't know what you're in for, taking this lot to Diagon Alley," she says.

"I'm one of seven kids," I tell her. "Every trip we ever took was twice as bad as this."

"Seven, goodness!" Mary says. "Are any of you married?"

"My oldest brother," I tell her. _And I'm engaged - sort of._ "Mary, can I ask you something sort of personal?" I ask, before I can lose my nerve.

She waits, looking at me warily. "I'm going to ask Hermione - that's my girlfriend - to marry me tonight," I explain. "And I just wondered - well, when Reg proposed to you, how did he do it?"

Mary's face relaxes. "Poor Reg," she says fondly. "He meant it to be so romantic, but he made a bit of a mess of it. The restaurant he took me to was closed for repairs - and then it started raining and his umbrella wouldn't open - and then he thought he'd lost the ring…"

I can't laugh at old Reg - I'll be lucky if the same stuff doesn't happen to me. "But you said yes anyway," I prompt.

"Of course I did," Mary says fondly. "There he was, with rain dripping down his face. 'I fell in love with you the first time I saw you,' he said to me, and well - that was all I needed to hear!"

I can't say that to Hermione. The first time we saw each other we were eleven and we got into an argument about spells.

"Well, when _did_ you know you were in love with her?" Mary asks, when I point this out.

I think about it. The thing is, I'm not exactly sure when it happened. It could have been when I heard her say she was going to Slughorn's party with McLaggen and I realized I didn't have the right to say anything because I was going out with Lavender. Or maybe it was before that - like the night we all sat up in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place waiting to hear if Dad was going to make it, and I kept wishing McGonagall'd taken a few extra minutes and woken Hermione up, too, because I really needed her there. Or maybe even the year before - when I saw her on Krum's arm at the Yule Ball, looking prettier than I'd ever thought she could look…

"I dunno, exactly," I admit. "It sort of snuck up on me."

Mary pats me on the arm, even though she looks like she wants to roll her eyes. "You'll think of something," she says kindly. "Now, what about a ring?"

"I haven't got one yet," I say apologetically. "But Hermione's okay with that. She just said it had to be romantic this time."

Mary makes the same choking noise that Robards did. I hope there's not something going around - all I need is to get sick right now. "Well, take her out for a nice dinner," she advises.

"Can you think of anyplace?" I ask. "The only romantic place I've ever heard of is Madam Puddifoot's in Hogsmeade, but it always sounded pretty awful to me."

Mary sighs. "Your poor girlfriend," she says, shaking her head. "Well, what about the Leaky Cauldron, then? Tom rents out private rooms, you know."

I can hear the kids on the stairs. "Thanks, Mary," I say. "I'll ask him when we get there."

Perdita and Reg aren't there yet when we get to the Cauldron. "Go on and ask," Mary urges me. "We'll wait for you."

I go up to the bar. The girl behind it looks sort of familiar, but it's not till she turns that I recognize Hannah Abbott. "Hi, Hannah," I say. "I didn't know you worked here."

Hannah nods. "I give Tom a few shifts a week in exchange for room and board," she explains. "I'm taking the advanced Herbology training at St. Mungo's."

"Oh, with Neville?" I ask. "How are you both liking it?"

"Well, _Neville_ likes it," Hannah says. "He's the best student in the class. I'm - I'm having a bit of a hard time with it, to be honest. I didn't know it was going to be so difficult."

I can understand that - I had a hard enough time with regular Herbology, and that was when I had Hermione to copy off of.

"Maybe you could do something else," I suggest.

"Well, I don't know what," Hannah says.

She looks a bit upset, so I try to change the subject. "How's Ernie doing?" I ask.

"I don't know," Hannah says. "We broke up."

Oops. Bad choice. "Er," I say.

Hannah rescues me. "What about you and Hermione?" she asks. "You're still together, aren't you?"

"Definitely," I say. "Actually, that's why I'm here. You see, I have a sort of special evening planned tonight, and I heard that Tom sometimes lets people have private rooms, and - "

Hannah's face lights up. "You're proposing to her!" she exclaims. "Aren't you?"

Damn - that's three people that know. I'm going to feel like a right idiot if Hermione turns me down. She won't, though. I know she won't.

"Yeah," I admit. "Only don't tell anyone, all right?"

"Don't worry about a thing," Hannah says, smiling at me. "I'll set everything up for you. Now, if you want to be really private, we can arrange to have your food delivered by magic so you won't be interrupted by waiters or anything."

"That sounds perfect," I say. "About half-seven, then?"

**Harry**

"I thought you were going out," I say, looking up from my book.

"We are," Ron says. "If Hermione's ever ready. She made me leave the room - she said I was distracting her."

"Going anyplace good?" I ask, yawning. I'm planning on an early night myself - I want to be in Hogsmeade first thing tomorrow.

"Just to the Leaky Cauldron for dinner," Ron says, pacing up and down. "But I reserved a private room. And I ordered champagne - and I brought home flowers for her tonight. That ought to be romantic enough for anyone, wouldn't you think?"

I stifle a laugh. "Has it got to be romantic?" I ask. It doesn't sound much like Ron's usual style.

Ron stops pacing and leans over my chair. "Harry, I'm going to ask her to marry me!" he whispers, even though we're the only ones in the room. "Well, I've asked her once already, but this time I'm doing it properly."

Married? But Ron's only eighteen. "It's a big step, marriage," I say carefully.

"Oh, I'll never want to marry anybody besides Hermione," Ron says confidently. "And she feels the same about me. You see, Harry, there's nobody else that would put up with either of us."

"Don't say that when you propose," I advise. "It's definitely _not_ romantic."

Ron grins at me. "I haven't any idea what I'm going to say," he admits cheerfully. "I reckon I'll just have to wing it."

I grin back. "Just make sure she has plenty of champagne first," I say.

Ron straightens and starts pacing again, jingling something in his pocket. "What've you got there?" I ask curiously. "Is that the ring?"

"I haven't got a ring yet," Ron says. "That'll have to wait a bit. No, this is just my lucky piece."

What lucky piece? "I didn't know you'd got one," I say.

"I didn't," Ron says. "I just found it tonight. But I thought it wouldn't hurt to carry one - if I ever needed luck, it's right now!"

"Hermione's crazy about you," I remind him.

"I know," Ron says matter-of-factly. "But there's plenty that could go wrong, all the same."

There's the sound of footsteps in the hall. The panicked expression on Ron's face reminds me suddenly of the way he used to look before Quidditch matches.

"You'll be fine," I say bracingly. "Good luck!"

"Thanks," Ron says. "Well, see you tomorrow."

"You won't," I remind him. "I'm going to Hogsmeade, remember?"

"Not a word about this to Ginny," he warns me. "She'll tell Mum and Dad, and the next thing you know, Mum'll be planning our wedding. We're not ready for _that_ yet."

I stare into the fire after he's gone. Here I am, just thinking it'll be nice to have a normal date with my girlfriend when we don't have to worry about Voldemort lurking behind every corner, and Ron and Hermione are already talking about getting married. It makes me feel a bit left behind, all of a sudden. I definitely want to get married - someday - but eighteen is too young. I haven't even had a chance to _do_ anything yet. And I know Ginny feels the same way - she's said often enough that she thinks people ought to experience life before they settle down. _You're not Ron,_ I remind myself. _What's right for them isn't necessarily what's right for you._ Anyway, it sounds like it's going to be a pretty long engagement. So there's no reason for me to sit here feeling like I've just lost my best friend - is there?

**Draco**

It's been nearly two days, and I haven't heard anything from any of the four women I left messages for. Mind, they were all written in Disappearing Ink, but if any of them were my contact, they'd sort of expect something like that, wouldn't they? I was careful about what I wrote, just in case, but a Death Eater wouldn't have any trouble interpreting the message. The only one who wasn't around was Damaris Gamp - I had to leave it with the secretary so the Mudblood wouldn't stick her nose in where it doesn't belong. So maybe it's her - maybe she hasn't gotten it yet.

The others are starting to put things away for the day. If I can just get to the door without Clarissa stopping me…

"Wait a minute," Clarissa says, grabbing my arm as I'm about to leave. "I want to talk to you."

She looks angry. "What's wrong?" I say, trying to act casual.

"What's wrong?" Clarissa repeats in disbelief. "I was about to ask you the same question! Not a word yesterday, and then you disappear after work without even - Draco, you're not sorry you kissed me, are you?"

"No, of course not," I say quickly. I don't want to get her suspicious. Anyway, I'm _not_ sorry I kissed her - it was quite enjoyable, even if she probably is a spy. "I'm sorry I had to rush off yesterday, Clarissa. I've been a bit preoccupied. Er - family problems."

"Oh," Clarissa says, looking relieved. "Is everything all right now?"

_Not as long as my uncle's alive._ "Not exactly," I say evasively. "I - look, let's get a drink, all right? We can't talk here." _And I need a few minutes to come up with a decent story._

I end up taking her to a Muggle pub. It's rather disgusting, but at least we won't run into anyone we know. A waitress brings us drinks, and I hand her a blank piece of parchment. "There you are," I say politely. "Keep the change."

The waitress looks at it blankly, her eyes glazed over. "Thanks," she says, stuffing it into her pocket.

"That wasn't very honest of you," Clarissa scolds. "She might get into trouble for that."

"What did you want me to do, offer her a Galleon?" I ask, annoyed. "I haven't any Muggle money."

"Never mind," Clarissa says, dismissing the subject with a wave of her hand. "Tell me what's wrong."

What? Oh yeah, my imaginary family problem. "Well, it's my father, mostly," I say, not looking at her. "You know about his - er - difficulties with the Ministry?"

"Everyone knows, I should think," Clarissa says calmly. "But he's been cleared of all charges, hasn't he?"

"Officially," I say. "But unofficially - well, that's another story. His old friends have deserted him; he can't even get a proper wand made… he's really starting to get depressed." I find myself warming to the subject as I go on. After all, it's true that most of father's old friends are avoiding us (or else they're in Azkaban - or dead), and Ollivander pretends his shop's closed every time Father shows up there, but the part about him being depressed is rubbish. Father's much too arrogant to get depressed about anything. Still, I think it sounds believeable.

Clarissa obviously thinks so, too. "I'm sorry," she says, putting her hand over mine. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"It helps just having someone to talk to," I say, milking it for all it's worth. I wonder if she lives alone. "I wish there was somewhere we could go," I say, looking around. "Someplace a bit more private…"

"There's my flat," Clarissa offers, rising to the bait. "I'm afraid I haven't much in the way of food, but if you don't mind a sandwich for dinner…"

"I don't care about dinner," I say, gazing deeply into her eyes. "I just want to be alone with you, Clarissa."

I almost (but not quite) feel guilty about taking advantage of her like this. But I've got to find out what she knows.

**Hermione**

I expect Ron to lead me through the Leaky Cauldron into Diagon Alley, but Tom hurries up to us as soon as we walk in.

"Right this way," he says, smiling and ushering us toward a door near the back. Inside there's a small room, with a table set for two.

"It's a private room," Ron explains. "I thought it'd be more romantic like that."

He looks rather pleased with this last bit. "It's lovely," I say, smiling at him.

Ron helps me into my chair and pulls his own close to it. "All the serving's done by magic," he says happily. "So no one will bother us all night. See, you just tell this menu what you'd like to eat."

He leans closer. "You look absolutely gorgeous, Hermione," he says. "I've never seen you wear a dress like that before."

I very nearly didn't wear this one. Miranda talked me into buying it, dismissing all of my objections about it being a bit too clingy. "You've got a perfectly good figure," she said firmly. "Show it off a bit, Hermione! You're only young once."

"Thanks," I say, tugging surreptiously at the bodice. I've never worn anything strapless before, either. I wasn't sure it would stay up properly, but it's been all right so far.

A bottle of champagne hovers in the air above the table. "How am I doing so far?" Ron asks, handing me a glass. "This is romantic, isn't it?"

I want to laugh, but he's dead serious. "It's perfect," I say, managing to keep a straight face. "So far."

Our dinner arrives much in the same way it used to at Hogwarts, with plates suddenly appearing in front of us. It's all delicious, but I scarcely know what I'm eating. Ron pushes his plate aside suddenly and takes both of my hands in his.

"Mary Cattermole asked me today when I knew I was in love with you," he begins.

_Mary Cattermole?_ Never mind; let him finish. I look into his eyes expectantly.

"I couldn't answer her," Ron continues. "Because I wasn't sure when it happened. Maybe it's been always. But I can tell you the exact second that I knew I wanted to marry you. It was when you came back from Australia, and you said you'd come back to be with me. Nobody ever did anything like that just for me before."

Because he's never been the most important person in anyone's life - until now. Ron's always accepted this with a matter-of-factness that I - an only child - could never comprehend.

"I know I'm not good at this romance stuff," he says, tightening his grip on my hands. "But I really do love you, Hermione, and I - "

The door opens. "More champagne, sir?" a waiter asks, drifting over to refill our glasses. He hovers over us when he's finished. Ron throws him an exasperated look.

"Tip him," I whisper. "That's what he's waiting for."

Ron shoves a coin in the waiter's direction, looking relieved as he finally disappears.

"Tom's bloody well going to hear about that," he says, annoyed. "I told him we didn't want to be disturbed." He reaches for his glass. "Right, then - where were we?"

It's not like Tom to get this wrong - and why would they send a waiter in when we were already being served by magic? Something doesn't add up - it's almost as though -

"Don't drink that!" I say sharply, knocking the glass from Ron's hand. The liquid inside spills on the tablecloth. We both watch in horrified silence as it burns a hole through the fabric.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispers.

"I think we'd better get out of here," I say faintly.

Ron's already on his feet, with his arm firmly around my shoulders. "Hang on just a minute," he says.

"Never mind the bill," I say frantically. "You can send an owl tomorrow."

"Not that," Ron says. "I didn't get this far to let something like an attempted murder stop me. Hermione, once and for all, will you marry me?"

"Once and for all, yes!" I say. "Let's go, quickly!"

Ron gives me a brief kiss. "That'll have to do for now," he says. "Right, let's go. Hold on tight to me."

He turns, but nothing happens. "There must be an Anti-Apparition Charm on the room," I whisper. "Ron, do you think that waiter - "

"Most likely it was Tom, to stop people from skiving off without paying their bill," Ron says cynically. "We'll have to go out there, Hermione - there's no help for it. Here, you stay behind me while I open the door. Be ready to use a Stunning Spell if you need to."

**Harry**

I'm awake before it's light out, impatient to get to Hogsmeade and Ginny. I didn't even hear Hermione and Ron come in last night, but it must have been late.

Neither one of them has surfaced by the time I finish breakfast. "I'm off," I say to Kreacher. "I'll probably be late - don't wait dinner for me."

It's freezing in Hogsmeade. I'd forgotten how much colder it gets in the north. All the same, I brave the icy wind to watch for Ginny outside the gates of Hogwarts. Filch is letting students through a few at a time, and he gives me a sour look. Too bad it wasn't Hagrid - he'd have let me in, I'll bet.

"Hello, Harry!" someone calls. I turn, recognizing the radish earrings even at a distance.

"Luna!" I say. "Where's Ginny?"

"Coming, I think," Luna says vaguely. "She got an owl right before we left." She gives me a sunny smile. "I'll probably see you later in the Three Broomsticks," she says, drifting away.

The crowd's nearly dissipated by the time I see Ginny running down the path, her red hair flying. "Sorry I'm late," she says, kissing me. "But _this_ came!" She thrusts an envelope into my hand.

"Not here," she adds, as I start to open it. "Let's go someplace warm."

I put my arm around her as we start down the path, feeling her relax against me. "I've missed you," I say. "It seems like a long time till the Christmas holidays."

"If we can get through till then, we may be able to see each other a lot more often," Ginny says, a bit cryptically. "I - oh, never mind. Tell me how your Auror training's going. Is Robards still being a prat?"

"He's not so bad," I say, wondering why I'm defending someone who obviously can't stand me. Maybe it's because of what Andromeda told me. "Just a bit hard to get to know. He's been letting me do a bit more, lately."

"Good," Ginny says, squeezing my hand. "I knew he'd start trusting you once he got to know you."

"Yeah, well, that's not going to last much longer," I say. "I've got my interview on Lee's program tomorrow night."

Ginny stops in the middle of the path, staring at me. "I'd forgotten about that," she says. "Do you think he'll be angry?"

"I don't know," I admit. "I almost wish I hadn't said I'd do it - but I can't back out now; it's not fair to Lee. And anyway, it's the only way to get bloody Rita Skeeter off my back. She's still sending me owls every other day."

Ginny starts walking again. "Maybe you ought to talk it over with Robards before you do the interview," she says.

"He'll say I can't do it," I protest.

"He might not," Ginny says optimistically. "Anyway, better he hears it from you than from someone else after it's already too late."

She's got a point there. "I'll talk to him about it tomorrow," I say, opening the door to the Three Broomsticks. It feels good to get out of the cold, even though it's crowded in here.

"Over here, quick," Ginny says, leading me to an empty table in the far corner. "If people see you, they'll all be over here - and I want you all to myself for a bit."

She smiles at me - warmly, possessively - and all of a sudden I wish we'd gone somewhere else. The Three Broomsticks isn't nearly private enough.

"You can read that letter now," Ginny says.

What? Oh, right - I'd nearly forgotten. I pull it out of my pocket, spreading the parchment out on the table. It takes a second for the heading to sink in. "Ginny, this is from the Holyhead Harpies!" I say, looking up.

"Not just the Harpies," Ginny says. "It's from Gwenog Jones herself. Go on, read it!"

The letter's short and to the point. Gwenog wrote that she'd seen Gryffindor's recent match against Ravenclaw and had been impressed by Ginny's playing. "She wants you to try out for the team!" I say incredulously. "Ginny, that's great!"

"The tryouts are two days after Christmas, so luckily I won't have to explain to anyone at school," Ginny says nervously. She reaches for my hand. "Harry, you'll help me practice, won't you? I'll be home the week before; we'll have plenty of time…"

"Course I will," I say. A new thought strikes me. "Ginny, if you make the team - "

"If I make the team, I'm not going back to school," Ginny says decidedly. "Let's face it, Harry - I'm not the scholarly type like Hermione, and I'd be bored to death with a Ministry job. This is exactly what I want to do." She looks suddenly anxious. "Harry, what if I don't make it?"

"You'll make it," I say, giving her hand a squeeze. "And I'll come to all your matches and cheer you on."

"We'll be able to see a lot more of each other if I'm not at school," Ginny adds happily. "Speaking of which - what would you like to do today?"

I grin at her. "We could go to Honeydukes and buy sweets," I say teasingly. "Or maybe have a look in the shops."

"It would serve you right if I said yes," Ginny says, mock-seriously. "But I think I'd rather be alone with you."

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," I say, a half hour later, looking up at Ariana's portrait in the Hog's Head. "If we're caught - "

"You've been living with Hermione for too long," Ginny says. "You're starting to sound like her. Where's your sense of adventure, Harry?"

"I'm only thinking of you," I tell her.

"Hurry up," Ginny says, glancing out of the window. "I can see Aberforth coming back from feeding his goats."

She's right - we're not going to get caught. I scramble up on the mantelpiece and hold out a hand to her. A few minutes later we're in the Room Of Requirement. It looks just like it did the last time we were here - except -

"Someone's been in here," Ginny whispers, frowning.

"Someone's in here _now_," I whisper back. "I hear water running."

The door to the bathroom starts to open. I shove Ginny behind me and pull out my wand. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Ron**

"You can't go out there," Hermione argues, clutching my arm. "What if that waiter person's right outside the door?"

"If he is, he'll be sorry," I say, flexing my wand. "Come on, Hermione - we can't just stay in here. What do you want to do, wait for closing time and see if Tom shows up to clear the table?"

"You could send a Patronus to someone," Hermione suggests. "In fact, I think you'd better. Robards, or even Harry - "

I'm not sending for anyone. I can handle this on my own - I'm an Auror, after all. "Perdita, then," Hermione says, seeing my expression. "After all, she wanted to test the perfume. I'm sure she'd be awfully interested in that so-called champagne."

Okay, she's got a point there. "All right," I say. "I'll send for Perdita." I hesitate for a minute, wondering what to say. Patronus messages have to be pretty short; that's the problem with them. "Hermione and I are at the Cauldron and something really weird's going on," I say at last. "Can you come? But be careful - and look out for waiters."

"At least I'm finally going to get to meet her," Hermione says, watching my silver dog bound away. "I wish I'd gotten a better look at that waiter. I didn't really see his face - did you?"

"I was just looking at the door, hoping he'd take the hint and leave," I admit. "It could've been anybody."

The door opens slightly and we both jump. "Oh, it's you, Perdita," I say, letting my wand fall to my side again. "Hurry up and come in before anyone sees you."

"Are you all right?" Perdita asks, looking around. "What's happened?"

"This," I say, leading her to the table. "We were supposed to have service by magic - you remember I told you about it - and some bloke dressed like a waiter barged in and poured what I thought was champagne into my glass, and I probably would've drunk it if Hermione hadn't - oh, this is Hermione, by the way."

"Hello," Perdita says, holding out her hand. "Lovely to meet you at last. That's a gorgeous dress. What was wrong with the champagne?"

"It burned a hole in the tablecloth," Hermione says. "And it's nice to meet you, too. We thought we'd better have it tested for poison, although it seems rather obvious that it is." She Conjures a flask neatly and hands it to Perdita.

"So that's why you said to look out for waiters," Perdita says, carefully using a Hover Charm to fill the flask with the liquid from Hermione's full glass and my nearly empty one. "I couldn't imagine what you were on about. I don't suppose either of you got a good look at him."

"We were a bit preoccupied," I say, grinning at her. "You didn't see anyone suspicious out there, did you?"

"It's Friday night," Perdita says, shrugging. "Half the clientele look suspicious - but I don't think anyone saw me come in here. I think the best thing to do is make sure the two of you get out of here safely - and we'll have to report this to Gawain, you know. This was a definite attempt on your life."

"Have we got to tell him tonight?" I ask, even though I know she's going to say yes. I keep thinking it might not be too late to salvage the evening. Harry did say he was going to bed early, didn't he?

"It might not take too long," Hermione says hopefully. "But Perdita's right, Ron. If you'd drunk that champagne…"

I'm bloody well going to start carrying a bezoar instead of a lucky piece. This is twice I've nearly been poisoned. "All right," I say, pulling out my wand again.

"Better let me," Perdita says. "There's a code - I expect I'd better teach it to you first thing next week."

The message she sends makes absolutely no sense, but it does the trick. Robards is there within seconds. Perdita nods at me to tell him the story.

"You've a sample?" he asks, nodding at our empty glasses. Perdita hands him the flask.

"The waiter - " Robards begins, but I shake my head.

"Didn't notice," I admit. "Sorry."

"Aurors should be observant," Robards says sternly.

"They were on a date, Gawain," Perdita cuts in, looking amused. "Give them a break."

Robards looks from me to Hermione. "This is Miss Granger, I presume?" he asks. "We were sorry not to have you join the Aurors."

Bloody hell. Harry and I didn't get that kind of welcome.

"That's awfully nice of you," Hermione says, blushing. "But I thought I'd like to do something a bit - well, calmer - for a change."

Yeah, that happened, didn't it? She might just as well have been an Auror with me and Harry for all the peace and quiet she's getting these days.

"We'll have this tested immediately, of course," Robards is saying, pocketing the flask. "Now, in the meantime…" His eyes narrow as he thinks. "Have either of you left this room since you got here?" he asks me abruptly.

I shake my head.

"Good," Robards says, pleased. "If anyone's been watching this room, they will have seen exactly what they no doubt hoped to see - your partner, hastening to your rescue; followed quickly by me. In a moment I shall summon Tom and instruct him to hurry back and forth anxiously while pretending to be extremely distraught."

What? Oh. "You want them to think we drank the champagne," I say, and Robards nods at me.

"We'll let them wonder if you're dead or not," he says. "Meanwhile, of course, you two won't be here."

"Can we go home?" Hermione asks hopefully.

Robards raises an eyebrow. "Certainly not," he says firmly. "They're very likely watching your house. No, we'll send the pair of you off to a safe house for a day or two. Once we get the results from testing that champagne we'll have a better idea of what we're up against."

Hermione throws me a worried look. I slip my arm around her. "It'll be okay," I say, trying to sound reassuring. I look at Robards. "You'll have to fill Harry in," I point out. "Otherwise he'll come looking for us."

"I shall attend to Mr. Potter," Robards says. He pulls a scrap of parchment from his pocket and scribbles an address on it, then hands it to me. "Memorize it," he says.

I read it and hand it silently to Hermione. She's the one with the good memory.

"Got it," Hermione says briefly. _"Evanesco!"_

Robards gives her another approving look. "Off you go, then," he says to us. "I'm your Secret Keeper, so I'll be the one getting in touch with you once we've analyzed the champagne. In the meantime, stay inside, and don't try to make contact with anyone. You'll find everything you need there."

"There's an Anti-Apparition Charm on this room," I tell him.

"Is there?" Robards says skeptically. "Try paying your bill."

Oh. I throw a handful of Galleons down on the table, and they vanish instantly.

"I think you'll find you can Disapparate now," Robards says dryly.

He catches me by the arm just as we're about to go. "I trust this didn't completely destroy your evening, Mr. Weasley?" he asks in a low voice.

"No, it's all right," I tell him. "She said yes!"

Robards almost smiles. "Off you go," he says again.

Perdita smiles at us anxiously from the other side of the room as we Disapparate.

**Harry**

Ginny pulls away impatiently and takes up a position on the other side of the door, her eyes daring me to stop her. But there's no time, anyway. The door opens wide, letting a cloud of steam into the room. I hold my wand ready, but the small, towel-clad figure that emerges from the bathroom is no Death Eater.

"Dennis, for heaven's sake!" Ginny says. "We very nearly Stunned you. What on earth are you doing here?"

Dennis Creavey looks as astonished to see us as we are to see him. "I ran away," he says in a small voice. "I couldn't stand it anymore." He looks down at himself and blushes. "Would you mind turning your head till I can get dressed?"

Ginny rolls her eyes. "I've got six brothers," she says. "I've seen plenty of boys in towels before. But go on, if it makes you feel better."

Dennis half-stumbles into the room and pulls a bag from under the bed. "How long have you been living here?" I ask.

"Nearly two weeks now," Dennis says through the sweater he's pulling over his head. "It's my parents, you see. They won't let me be a wizard. I thought they'd come around at first, but after a while I could see it was no good. They wanted me to go back to Muggle school and forget - well, everything. And I tried, Harry, but I just couldn't!"

"I know," I say. I understand, better than anyone, what it must have been like for him.

"Dad was going to burn all my Hogwarts things, but I Confunded him and hid them in the garage," Dennis goes on. "I used to sneak out at night and practice spells, just so I wouldn't forget everything I'd learned. And then one night they caught me at it." He stops speaking abruptly, looking down at the floor.

"Well?" Ginny says from the corner. "What happened?"

"You can turn around now," I tell her. "He's decent."

Ginny comes over and joins me, slipping her arm through mine. "What happened, Dennis?" I ask, echoing Ginny.

"I - I Imperiused them," Dennis whispers, looking terrified. "I know it was wrong, but I sort of panicked - and anyway, I didn't think it'd work. I'd never tried to use an Unforgiveable Curse before."

Ginny and I exchange startled glances. "What did you tell them to do?" I ask.

"Nothing bad," Dennis assures me quickly. "I just had them go back into the house and go to bed. And then I packed my things and left. I didn't know what to do at first, and then this odd sort of bus thing showed up - "

"The Knight Bus!" Ginny and I say together.

"You've been on it, then," Dennis says. "Weird, isn't it? Anyway, I asked them to bring me to Hogsmeade. I felt awfully sick by the time they let me off, so I went behind the Three Broomsticks to throw up - and then I saw Hagrid coming out, so I just followed him back to the school. He'd had a fair bit to drink, I think - he was singing all the way home - and he didn't even notice me slipping in the gates behind him.

"Was Stan Shunpike on the bus?" I ask curiously. I'd meant to follow up on Stan, but with everything else that's happened, it slipped my mind.

"Who?" Dennis says. "It was just a driver - I think he said his name was Ern. Anyway, I slept under a tree that night, and next morning when Filch unlocked the front doors I came up here and got into the Room. I've been living here ever since. I thought that even if I couldn't go to school at Hogwarts, I could still live here."

"Dennis, you can't stay here," Ginny says gently.

"Why can't I?" Dennis demands. "There's no place for me out there. Mum and Dad won't let me tell anyone the truth about Colin. It's like they're ashamed of the way he died, when they ought to be proud of him for being so brave!"

His words send a pang through me. He's right; they ought to be proud. Just like Aunt Petunia should've been proud of the way my parents died, fighting Voldemort. "We can't send him back to his parents," I say to Ginny. "It's not right, what they're doing."

"He can't live in the Room of Requirement forever," Ginny points out. "There's no food, for one thing. And he can't finish his education from here, either."

"I've been all right for food so far," Dennis says. "I sneak out at night and get it from the kitchen. I don't think the house-elves know I'm not still a student here."

"Well, you're lucky you haven't run into Filch," I say, but I can't help being a bit impressed. He's been a lot more resourceful than I would have expected.

"I've got books as well," Dennis is going on. "I got them from the library so I could keep up with my classes. Look, I'll show you!" He bends down and begins rummaging eagerly under the bed.

I look at Ginny helplessly. "What should we do?" I ask in a low voice. "Do you think I ought to bring him back to Grimmauld Place?"

"What are you going to do with him all day while the three of you are at work?" Ginny says. "I've got a better idea. Let's bring him to the Burrow. Mum and Dad wouldn't mind - "

"Forget it," Dennis says firmly, overhearing. "They'll think we ought to let my parents know where I am."

"The Weasleys aren't like that," I protest, but I'm not so sure. They were always great about taking me in, but they made sure Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia knew where I was (even though I'm sure they didn't care, as long as it wasn't anywhere near Privet Drive). I look at Ginny again.

"I know," Ginny says brightly. "I'll present it to them as a hypothetical situation and see what they say. We can go from there. Only you'll have to be the one to do it, Harry, since I'm stuck here till Christmas."

Great. Just great. I'm never good at that sort of thing - Mrs. Weasley's going to have the whole story out of me in about five minutes.

"Maybe we'd better get Ron to do it," Ginny says, evidently remembering the same thing. "We can send him a Patronus from the Hog's Head."

Dennis and I both look at her. "The Hog's Head?"

"Well, we can't bring Dennis into the Three Broomsticks," Ginny says matter-of-factly. "It's full of people from school. Get your things packed up, Dennis, and let's go."

"I'm not going anywhere," Dennis says stubbornly. "Not till I know it's all right. You go on and send your Patronus, and let me know what Ron says." He sits down on the bed, folding his arms.

"Fine," I say impatiently. "Come on, Ginny." I feel sorry for Dennis, but I can't help resenting him just a little. This is not how I planned on spending this day.

We'd expected Aberforth to be downstairs in the pub, so it's a bit of a shock when I peek cautiously out of the portrait frame to see him looking me right in the eye.

"Well, well, if it isn't Harry Potter," he says sardonically. "So nice of you to drop in. Is that the Weasley girl you've got with you?"

He doesn't seem surprised to see us. "How'd you know?" I ask.

Aberforth snorts. "Ariana told me, of course," he says. "I must say, I didn't expect you back so quickly."

I didn't know Ariana's portrait could talk - I thought she just smiled and waved. "We didn't expect to be back so quickly, either," I say. "We ran into an unexpected development."

Ginny throws me a warning look, but I trust Aberforth. He's not going to turn Dennis in.

"Well, well," he says slowly, when I've finished the story. "And his parents won't let him be a wizard? They've no right to do that - no right at all!"

"He's underage," Ginny says. "But we agree with you."

Aberforth strokes his beard, looking worried. "The boy can't stay in the Room of Requirement, you're right about that," he says to her. "But I don't think your parents are the answer, Missy! I know Molly and Arthur - they'll think it's their duty to return him to his family."

"I thought maybe I could take him home with me," I say.

Aberforth snorts again. "Thought you wanted to keep him out of sight," he says. "There's nothing particularly low-profile about living with Harry Potter, is there? Rita Skeeter still pestering you, boy?"

Bloody hell. He's right. I look at Ginny again.

"Bring him out," Aberforth's saying. "I'd like to get a look at the boy. Took a lot of guts to do what he did!"

He and Ginny are deep in conversation when I come back a few minutes later, more or less dragging a protesting Dennis.

"So this is Dennis," Aberforth says, breaking off in mid-sentence. "Like goats, boy?"

"Goats?" Dennis says faintly. "Er, I guess so."

"Good, good, you can help me feed 'em," Aberforth says. "Now, I don't want you hanging round the pub at night - I get a bit of a rough crowd in here - but you can help me out with the house and the stock, and in return I'll teach you how to be a proper wizard. I'm no schoolmaster like my brother was, but I know a thing or two about spells."

I turn to Ginny. "What's he on about?" I whisper.

"He's going to let Dennis live here," Ginny whispers back, looking amused. "I think he's a bit lonely, even though he'd never admit it."

"We can say you're my - well, not my nephew; everyone knows I haven't got one - you can be my second cousin, then!" Aberforth's saying to a baffled-looking Dennis. "Now, we'd better change your looks a bit." He lifts his wand consideringly. Dennis shrinks away.

"Red hair's always nice," Ginny says helpfully.

Aberforth shakes his head in disgust. "We'll have everyone thinking I've kidnapped a Weasley," he says. "No, we'll just make his hair a bit lighter - there - and change the shape of his nose a bit - "

"Could I be taller?" Dennis asks hopefully.

"Dennis," I say, breaking in. "You understand, right? Aberforth's going to let you live here with him - if that's all right with you."

Dennis looks at Aberforth for a long moment. "I'd like to stay here," he says simply.

Good - that's settled, then. "Ginny and I'll go get your things," I say, grabbing Ginny's hand. "You stay here with Aberforth and - er - get acquainted."

"That was quick thinking," Ginny says approvingly, once we're safely back in the Room.

"I didn't come all the way to Hogsmeade to let Dennis Creavey cheat me out of snogging you properly," I say, reaching for her.

It takes us a long time to make it back to the Hog's Head.

**Hermione**

I'd expected to end up at a house out in the countryside somewhere - like Godric's Hollow, maybe - but the address turns out to be a flat in the heart of London.

"This looks like a Muggle building," Ron whispers dubiously. "Are you sure it's the right place?"

I look around. The buildings on either side have each got three stories, but this one has four. "It'll be the one at the top," I say positively. "It probably looks like another three-story building to Muggles."

Fortunately there's no one around as we creep silently up the outside steps. "There, you see!" I say, pointing to the tarnished brass number plate hanging on the door. _"Alohomora!"_

The interior of the flat is much nicer than I'd expected from the outside. It's small, but clean and well-furnished. My legs feel like they won't hold me up anymore, and I drop down onto the nearest chair.

"Plenty of food," Ron says in a relieved voice, opening a cupboard.

"You can't possibly be hungry," I say, more sharply than I'd intended.

"I wouldn't mind a cup of tea," Ron says, oblivious.

I shut my eyes, listening to him clattering about in the kitchen. I try to picture the waiter - his face; what did his face look like? - but all I can remember is a vague, black-robed figure.

"Hermione?" Ron says from next to my chair. "Not asleep, are you?"

"How could I possibly sleep after what's just happened?" I demand, opening my eyes and looking at him reproachfully. "We were nearly poisoned - both of us - on the very night we got engaged!"

"Have some tea," Ron says. "It'll make you feel better. And you might come and sit with me."

I don't care about tea, but I slide out of my chair and curl up on the sofa next to him. I bury my face in his shoulder, feeling his arms tighten around me.

"It's all starting again," I whisper. "I thought it was over. I thought - I thought we could just be _normal_."

Ron sighs. "I know," he says. "So did I. But we'll catch whoever it is, Hermione. There were dozens of people in the Leaky Cauldron tonight - one of them must have seen that waiter. And meanwhile we're safe enough here."

"Everything was so perfect until he came in with that bottle," I say, half-resentfully.

"It'll make a great story to tell our grandchildren," Ron says.

I can't help laughing a little. "There," Ron says, pleased. "It'll be all right, Hermione. I'll look after you." He picks up a cup and hands it to me. "Drink your tea."

I'm just taking the cup from him when there's a knock at the door. We exchange startled glances.

"Robards, do you think?" I whisper.

Ron gets up and stands next to the door, wand ready. "Who is it?" he demands.

"It is I, Gawain Robards, the Head of the Auror Department," Robards' voice replies. "Earlier today, Mr. Weasley, you asked me to change your assignment so that you could propose _properly_ to Miss Granger tonight."

Ron's ears turn red. "It's him," he says unnecessarily, opening the door.

Robards sweeps in. "We have the results from testing the champagne," he says, not bothering with a greeting.

"Already?" Ron says. "That was fast."

"I requested immediate action," Robards says, his look reminding us that he is, after all, the Head of the Auror Department.

"And?" I say, even though I already know what he's going to tell us. It was quite obviously poison of some sort.

"Bubotuber pus," Robards says briefly.

Ron and I stare at each other. "But we did that in Herbology," Ron says slowly. "It's not exactly poisonous - is it?"

"I don't know," I say slowly. "It's quite caustic in its undiluted form, and I've certainly never heard of anyone _drinking_ it, but…" I look at Robards.

"You're quite right, Miss Granger," he says briskly. "The caustic properties - which were, of course, what caused the damage to the tablecloth - would certainly have made both of you extremely ill, but I highly doubt it would have killed you. There is of course a chance that irreparable internal injuries may have been caused." He hesitates for a minute. "Truthfully, we don't know," he admits finally. "As you said, no one's ever been foolish enough to drink it."

"So there's no way to track the person down by finding out who might have bought poison," Ron says. "Anybody can buy bubotuber pus - they use it in skin potions."

"Precisely," Robards says with a sigh.

I can't help feeling a bit relieved, even though I know we're still in danger. Bubotuber pus seems almost childish compared to some of the poisons that exist.

"So now what?" Ron's asking.

"Now we determine who may have been in a position to attack you tonight," Robards says. "Who knew that you were going to be at the Leaky Cauldron tonight?"

Ron considers. "Well, I told Perdita," he says after a minute. "And Harry, of course. Oh, and Mary Cattermole - and obviously Tom knew, and Hannah. I think that's all, really."

Hannah? "Hannah Abbott?" I ask. She's the only Hannah I can think of.

"She works at the Cauldron part time," Ron explains. "She's taking that Herbology class with Neville. She guessed we were getting engaged, but I don't think she'll tell anyone."

Honestly. "She'll tell Neville," I point out. "And he'll tell his grandmother, and she'll tell your Aunt Muriel. So much for keeping it a secret!"

Ron shifts uncomfortably. "What about you, Miss Granger?" Robards asks.

"No one," I say. "Well, Miranda knew I had a date, but I didn't tell her where I was going because I didn't know myself."

"Miranda?" Robards says questioningly.

"Miranda from Magical Creatures," I explain. "She's Wilton Sikes' secretary, but she really does most of the work, I think. Oh, I didn't mean to say that!"

Ron grins at me, and even Robards looks like he's trying not to smile. "You are not the first to have made that observation, Miss Granger," he says. "Be that as it may, it would appear that the only people who knew you would be in a private room at the Leaky Cauldron tonight were Miss Duckworthy, Mr. Potter, Mrs. Cattermole, Tom the landlord, and - er - "

"Hannah Abbott," Ron says. "But she's all right - we were at school with her."

"She's a Muggle-born, like me," I put in quietly. "She'd never do anything to hurt us. Mr. Robards, couldn't someone have overheard Ron telling one of those people?"

"Call me Gawain," Robards says. Ron shoots me an astonished look. "You're quite right, Miss Granger."

"No one would've overheard me telling Mary," Ron says. "Perdita or Harry, either. But anyone could've heard me talking to Hannah - we were right in the bar."

"Very well," Robards says, getting to his feet. "I shall contact Miss Abbott and see if she can recall who else was present during your conversation. In the meantime, I think that the two of you had better stay here - at least until we have completed a thorough investigation."

"I'll need to leave by Monday," I remind him anxiously. "I have to go to work."

"Sikes will be informed if it becomes necessary for you to remain in hiding," Robards says. "I'll be in touch." He pauses on the threshold. "Er, I should like to offer you my congratulations," he says, a bit awkwardly, and Disapparates.

"I don't see why you and Harry think he's difficult to get on with," I say, watching Ron lock the door behind him. "I think he's lovely."

"He is - to _you_," Ron retorts. "But I have to admit, he was pretty decent about giving me tonight off after I'd explained things to him." He sits back down next to me and pulls me into his arms. "Now, where were we?"

"I think," I say softly, "that you were just about to kiss me."

**Draco**

I almost wish I hadn't promised to meet Clarissa for lunch today, but I couldn't think of an excuse in time. It was hard enough getting away last night. She wanted me to stay, but I talked my way out of it.

Anyway, if I'm honest with myself, I want to see her. If she weren't a spy she'd be the perfect girl. Although I'm not entirely sure she is one - a spy, I mean. I asked her last night what she'd meant by saying our jobs didn't matter.

"What?" Clarissa asked. "Oh, that. Well, they _don't_ matter, do they? I assumed it was the same for you as it is for me. I don't have to work - we've plenty of money - but it seemed a shame not to use my education for something."

"It _is_ the same for me," I'd said hastily. "I was just thinking that - er - maybe my education could be put to better use."

Clarissa had nodded thoughtfully. "And there are people who really need those jobs," she'd said. "I suppose it isn't quite fair of us."

Personally, I couldn't care less about those people - I mean, it's not my fault if the Ministry chose to hire me instead of someone else - but I didn't say so to Clarissa. "I'll quit if you will," I'd said, testing her.

Clarissa had laughed, thinking I was joking. "Will we go round the world together, Draco?" she'd said teasingly. "We could start with Paris - I speak excellent French, as you know."

I'd passed it off as a joke, too, but now I can't stop thinking about it. I could just go, couldn't I? Father would give me money to travel - he'd be only too glad to see me quit the Ministry. And if Clarissa would go with me… we could hide ourselves so well that Rodolphus would never find us…

And how do you plan to explain that to Clarissa? I ask myself. _Yes, I'll go to Paris with you, but on second thought, let's make it a less well-known destination… and would you mind seeing how you look as a blonde?_

I groan to myself and push open the door to the restaurant.

**Harry**

Grimmauld Place seems strangely empty when I return from Hogsmeade. "Ron?" I call. "Hermione?" There's no answer.

Kreacher appears in the doorway from the kitchen. "Master has returned," he says happily. "Kreacher wonders if his master is hungry."

"Isn't there dinner?" I ask, surprised. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

Kreacher shrugs. "Kreacher has not seen them all day, Harry Potter," he says.

All day? "Are you sure?" I ask. "They didn't slip out early without you seeing them?"

"They could not have done so, sir," Kreacher says. "For they did not return last night."

Not at all? Ron would have said if they were going to stay away. Bloody hell - something's happened to them. I look around wildly. "Maybe they left a note," I say.

Kreacher brightens. "An owl brought a letter for Harry Potter," he says. "Kreacher left it on the desk in the sitting room."

I hurry in and snatch up the envelope. It's not Ron's writing - it looks more like Robards'. Probably wants me to work or something. I tear the letter open. The message inside is cryptic:

_See me before you do anything else.  
>G.R.<em>

Well, fine. I definitely want to see him - right away, as a matter of fact. I only hope it's not too late.

"I'll be back," I say to the hovering Kreacher. "If Ron and Hermione come home, tell them to send me a Patronus right away!"

Robards didn't say where to meet him, but I take a chance and go straight to the Ministry. It's after hours, but Aurors don't have to sign in. Sure enough, Robards is in his office when I get there. He opens his mouth to speak when he sees me, but I cut him off.

"Ron and Hermione are missing," I say. "They never came home last night."

"I know," Robards says calmly.

"We have to - what do you mean, you know?" I ask, confused.

"I know where they are," Robards says. "Mr. Weasley contacted this Department last night after an attempt was made on his life. I sent him and Miss Granger to a place of safety."

I drop into a chair. "Start over," I say. Robards looks at me. "Er, please," I add.

The story he tells me doesn't make any sense.

"I don't get it," I say. "Why bubotuber pus? If you want to kill someone, why not use a proper poison?"

"There are a number of things about this situation that don't make sense," Robards says. "Until we get to the bottom of it, I intend to keep Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley out of sight."

They're not going to like that - Ron especially. "Can I see them?" I ask.

Robards shakes his head. "You are also undoubtedly being watched," he reminds me. "We sent Aurors to your home last night to guard the area. So far they have reported no unusual activity."

So far? "You mean they're still there?" I ask. "I didn't see anyone."

"I should hope not," Robards says briskly.

I shake my head. "Poison," I say, almost to myself. "Like the perfume - I should've taken Ron seriously."

"I, too, am at fault there," Robards admits.

He seems almost human for a minute. "It had to be someone who knew they were going to be there," I say.

Robards nods. "Miss Granger was remarkably circumspect, but Mr. Weasley seems to have confided his intentions to a number of people - Mary Cattermole and a young woman called Hannah Abbott among them," he says.

"Hannah Abbott?" I ask, surprised. "Where'd he run into her?"

"She is employed at the Leaky Cauldron," Robards says. "I gather that you are well acquainted with her?"

"Yeah," I say. "We were at school together."

"Good," Robards says. "You may be more effective in questioning her than I would be, as she is less likely to be on her guard with you. The same may apply to Mrs. Cattermole - I have noticed before that you have good interrogation skills."

He has? This is the closest I've ever gotten to a compliment from Robards. "Er, right," I say, a bit awkwardly. "Will we go now, then?"

Robards nods. He's just gotten to his feet when I remember the other thing I've got to talk to him about. I sort of hate to bring it up now, when he seems almost pleased with me, but the program's tomorrow night and I might not get another chance.

"Er," I say hesitantly.

Robards sighs. "There is a problem, Mr. Potter?" he asks, still standing behind his desk.

"Not a problem," I say quickly. "It's - well, my friend Lee Jordan is going to have a radio program, and he asked me to be on it - you know, to tell about Voldemort and all that. I promised him I'd do it - it was ages ago, before I knew I was going to be accepted into the Auror program - and well…"

I wait for Robards to forbid it, but to my surprise he nods thoughtfully.

"Normally I would not approve of making so much information public," he says. "But under the circumstances - yes, I believe we can use this to our advantage. Listen carefully, Mr. Potter - this is what I want you to say." 


	15. Chapter 15

**Ron**

Even though we're in hiding and all that, it's sort of fun being here in the flat with Hermione for the weekend. It feels almost like we're already married and this is our own place. Well, except for the part where we can't go outside or communicate with anyone. But then again, we don't really need to. Everything we need is right here. I guess it would get old after a while, but right now I think we could use the break.

Hermione smiles at me across the dinner table like she's thinking the same thing. "More toast?" she asks, just like a wife.

I never say no to _more_ anything. "Thanks," I say, taking the plate from her. "And you might sit a bit closer."

Hermione slides her chair over next to mine. "We really ought to go over all this again," she says. "I thought we'd better make a list of all the things we know so far."

I had a few things in mind for after dinner, but a list definitely wasn't one of them. "You're a really good cook," I say, stalling.

"Anyone can make scrambled eggs," Hermione says, which isn't exactly true. I can't, for one, but I decide not to point this out. I'd rather do anything - even make lists - than have to learn cooking.

"I'll take care of the dishes," I say instead. "You can start without me, can't you?"

Hermione gives me a knowing look, but goes to the desk in the next room for parchment and a quill. "Right," she says, speaking loudly so I can hear her over the running water. "Let's start with what we know."

Not much, in my opinion. "Well," I say. "There've been two attempts so far - the perfume and the champagne. Oh, and I suppose we could count that woman who talked to Reg, but it's not like she tried to kill me or anything. So we know there's at least one man and one woman involved. We know they like using poison, but they don't seem to know much about it."

Hermione holds up a hand to stop me, writing quickly with the other one. I stare at the dishes washing themselves in the sink - there's nothing to dishwashing once you're old enough to do it by magic, but I've noticed I still seem to get a lot of points for it - and think about what I've just said. Something doesn't fit.

"All right," Hermione says, looking up. "What else?"

I've forgotten. "Hermione?" I say, turning to look at her. "Why _don't_ they know anything about poison? I mean, I was probably the worst Potions student ever except for Neville, but even I wouldn't bother trying to kill someone with bubotuber pus. And if they wanted you to use that perfume, they should've used something undetectable instead of turning it slime-green."

"I know," Hermione says. "The attempts have been so amateurish… it almost reminds me of when Malfoy was ordered to kill Dumbledore."

I leave the dishes to do whatever they want and sit down next to her again. "Whatever you do, don't say that in front of Harry," I say pleadingly. "He's already got a thing about Malfoy - and I don't think he's the one behind all this."

"Neither do I," Hermione says. "But if I know Harry, he's already thought of it."

**Harry**

"There's someone else we need to consider," I say, hurrying down the corridor after Robards. "Draco Malfoy."

Robards doesn't even turn. "We've kept a close eye on young Mr. Malfoy ever since he expressed an astonishing desire to work for a living," he says. "While he does not appear to be excelling in his chosen field, he has done nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, I've been informed that he is dating a girl from a family that his kind would consider blood traitors."

Someone's dating Malfoy? Poor girl - he must have her Confunded. I resist the impulse to say so and press on. "But what's happening to Ron and Hermione is just like what he did with Dumbledore," I say. "Someone's trying to kill them - but they're not trying very hard."

Robards presses the button for the lift and finally turns to look at me. "No," he says. "They're not trying hard - yet. I think these first attempts may be regarded more in the nature of a warning."

I must look as baffled as I feel, because he sighs and says, "Think about it, Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have assisted you to the best of their abilities for the past seven years. At times they have stood between you and death. They - "

"I know I couldn't have done any of it without them," I say impatiently. "What's your point?" And then suddenly I get it. "Someone wants them out of the way," I say. "And then - "

"And then, Mr. Potter, they will go after their real target," Robards finishes for me. "Which could very well be you."

**Hermione**

"What're you reading?" Ron asks, dropping down next to me on the sofa.

"This one's all about poisons and antidotes," I say, patting the book next to me. "You might see if you can find anything that would tell us what sort of poison was in that perfume."

Ron groans, but picks it up. "What's that one?" he asks, nodding at the book in my hands.

"It's all about banking," I say, holding up the cover for him to see.

Ron leans forward to read it. "_A History of Wizarding Monetary Systems Through the Ages_," he reads aloud. "Yeah, that one looks like a real page-turner. Mind you don't stay up all night finishing it."

I don't care about banking - I just thought I'd see if I could find out a bit more about Galleons and when they first came into use. I start to explain, but Ron's already flipping through the poisons book. "This says everyone ought to carry a bezoar," he remarks. "Bloody good idea if you ask me."

"They're awfully rare, I think," I say vaguely. "But I suppose we could look into it - if we ever get out of here."

Ron puts his arm around me, pulling me back against him. "Robards is working on it," he says reassuringly. "And probably Harry is, too - he must be back from Hogsmeade by now."

That reminds me. "Ron, you did remember to tell Harry not to say anything to Ginny about us being engaged, didn't you?" I ask.

"Harry understood," Ron says. "He remembers just as well as we do what Mum was like before Bill's wedding. There's no point in getting her worked up this early."

"We might tell them at Christmas," I suggest. It's going to be a difficult Christmas for the Weasleys - their first one without Fred. I'm hoping our news will serve as a distraction.

"We could," Ron says agreeably. "What about your parents?"

"I don't know," I say. "Maybe the day after - or New Year's Day."

"New Year's Eve is the night Seamus's club is opening," Ron reminds me. "I'm not going to feel up to a trip to Australia the next day. Anyway, aren't they a day ahead of us or something?"

"Not a whole day," I say. "Eleven hours. But that's a good point - we could go there early in the morning on the 24th and have Christmas Eve with my parents, and then be back here in time to have it again with yours."

"Two dinners sounds all right to me," Ron says, yawning. "Just be prepared for Mum to start talking about wedding dresses."

"It's far too early to even think about it," I say firmly, picking up my book again.

Ron shuts his eyes, abandoning the poisons book. "Is there anything in there that tells if a really old Galleon is still good to spend?" he asks.

"How old?" I ask, turning to the index.

"I forget, exactly," Ron says, frowning. "I think it was 1925 or 1926 - it's in the other room with my clothes from last night."

"That isn't terribly old," I say. "I'm sure it's fine - although it might be worth a bit more if it's rare or something. If you got it as change somewhere it means it's still in circulation."

"It wasn't change," Ron says. "I found it in - "

There's a knock at the door. "Robards," I whisper. "But we'd better make sure."

**Harry**

Robards abandons me in the lobby, muttering something about having to check up on a few things. I'll bet he's going to Ron and Hermione. I'm almost tempted to follow him, but I don't want to lead the Death Eaters straight to their doorstep. Well, it's Saturday night - Hannah Abbott ought to be at the Leaky Cauldron.

The Cauldron's packed with people, and it takes me several minutes to make my way to the bar. I lean against it, waiting for Hannah to finish serving someone. "Hello, Harry," says a voice from behind me.

"Neville!" I say, surprised. "What're you doing here?"

"Just keeping Hannah company," Neville says.

It doesn't exactly look like Hannah's short of company to me. "Are you two dating?" I ask.

"She just thinks of me as a friend," Neville says gloomily.

"How do you know?" I ask.

"Because that's how all girls think of me," Neville says simply. "Ron gave me a book to help out, but I haven't quite dared to try any of the things in it yet."

I choke back a laugh. I'll bet I know exactly which book it was. "Take a chance and ask her out," I advise.

"I'll think about it," Neville says. "Why are you here, Harry?"

I hesitate; then do a quick _Muffliato_ and tell him the whole story. If Neville hangs about in here as much as I think he does, he may have noticed something.

He hasn't, though. Apparently he's only got eyes for Hannah - and she's not much more help when she finally manages to break away and come over.

"I remember a woman with small children," she says, frowning in concentration.

The Cattermoles. "Anyone else?" I ask.

"Not at the bar," Hannah says. "There were two women with shopping bags sitting at that table against the wall, but I only saw one of them because she came up here to order their drinks - two gillywaters. And I had a mead and a red currant rum over there - " she points across the room - "but I think that was it, really."

It's pretty obvious that Hannah remembers her customers only by what they ordered. I wonder briefly if I'd be the same, and decide that I probably would. "Well, thanks, Hannah," I say, giving up. "Send me an owl if you think of anything else, all right?" I look over her shoulder and spot Tom in the distance. Excellent - just the person I was looking for.

"Sorry I wasn't more help," Hannah says, turning to serve a new customer. Neville's eyes follow her wistfully.

"Ask her out," I say in a low voice as I slide off my barstool. Neville starts and then grins at me.

A visit to the Cattermoles doesn't get me any further along. Mary admits shamelessly that she was eavesdropping on Ron, and didn't notice anyone else in the pub at all. "Such a lovely young man," she says, beaming. "I do hope he's all right - and that the young lady said yes."

"He's fine," I assure her. "And I'm sure you'll be invited to their wedding."

I decide I might as well go back to Grimmauld Place. It seems emptier and gloomier than ever, even though Kreacher does his best with dinner on a tray in front of the fire for me. It's when he's finally gone that I at last let myself think about what I've been trying to repress all day. Someone's after me - again. It still isn't over. The people close to me are in danger again - Ron, Hermione… Ginny. Maybe I ought to break things off with her, just for a bit until… No. _No._ I can't do that to her - to both of us - again. Maybe Robards is wrong - he said himself it was just a theory…

On that unsettling note, I go to bed.

**Ron**

"If it's just a warning, then aren't we doing exactly what they want by hiding here?" I say.

Robards looks away without answering. "It will do no harm for you to remain out of sight for a day or two longer," he says finally. "You're quite comfortable here, aren't you? There should be plenty of food - and I see you found the robes."

We're both wearing robes that Hermione found in the wardrobe. I was sort of sorry she found them - I was hoping she'd have to wear her strapless dress all weekend. "Yeah, it's comfortable," I say. "But it doesn't feel right. If they're really after Harry, we ought to be looking out for him, not hiding here."

"As an Auror, you are entitled to make that decision for yourself," Robards says coldly. "But Miss Granger is a civilian."

Bloody hell - I can't leave Hermione here on her own. "I may not be an Auror, but I've done my share of fighting," Hermione says, before I get a chance to say anything. "I think Ron's right - there's no need for us to hide here."

Robards turns, speaking directly to me. "Be very careful, Mr. Weasley," he says. "You could be risking something very precious to you. You're not the first Auror to make that mistake."

What? He's lost me there. Hermione leans forward. "I'm sorry," she says quietly to Robards, who inclines his head.

I don't get it. What's she apologizing for? Robards is getting to his feet. "I must ask both of you to remain here for at least another day and night," he says. "By Monday we should have a better idea of what we're dealing with."

Why Monday, I wonder? "My job - " Hermione's saying.

"That shall be attended to," Robards promises, heading for the door. "There's an excellent radio in that cupboard," he adds, pointing toward a corner. "If you listen to a new program airing at seven o'clock tomorrow evening, you may hear several things of interest to you. Good night." With that, he's gone.

I look blankly at Hermione. "What the hell…" I say.

"Wasn't it obvious?" Hermione says. "He lost someone close to him - and he probably feels as though it was all his fault."

I don't know how she got all that from what Robards said, but I'm not about to argue. I've noticed before that Hermione's nearly always right about this sort of thing. "Let's have a look at the radio," I say, dropping the subject. "I reckon Harry must've told him about being on Lee's program - I didn't think he was going to."

Hermione looks thoughtful. "It sort of sounded as though he and Harry had something planned for that program, didn't it?" she says.

**Harry**

Lee Jordan and I have a meeting scheduled before his show - good thing, as I've got a few things I need to go over with him first.

"Harry, I've been thinking," Lee says, before I get a chance to begin. "George told me bits and pieces of the story already, and it seems like there's almost too much material for just one show. What would you say to appearing on a series of them? We could have you tell your story one part at a time - you know, starting with the Sorcerer's Stone in first year and all that."

I hesitate, wondering what Robards is going to say when I tell him. But it's more of a chance for us to get across to the public, isn't it?

"The station managers are all right with the idea," Lee says, misinterpreting my silence. He leans forward, dropping his voice confidentially. "Actually, they're thrilled with it," he admits. "My other guest tonight is a witch who claims she's taught her cat to speak English."

I can't help laughing. "I'd like to do it," I say. "But I need your help with something, too."

Lee's eyes are shining with excitement when I've finished. "This is great," he says happily. "It's almost like being back in the D.A. with all the undercover stuff."

The production assistant - a very pretty witch who Lee's been trying unsuccessfully to chat up ever since I got here - appears in the doorway. "It's time," she says briefly and disappears again.

"Come on, we're in here," Lee says, leading me into a small room. I see two chairs and a rickety-looking table with a pitcher of water and two glasses on it.

"I'm not all that well-known yet," Lee says apologetically, showing me to the more comfortable-looking of the chairs. "You ought to see the set that witch who does household hints has got - all sorts of posh - oh, hello, Audra, are we live?"

"Thirty seconds," the production assistant says and shuts the door.

Lee sits down next to me, watching a spot on the wall. After a moment I see a green light appear. "Good evening," Lee says. "I'm Lee Jordan, and this is the Lee Jordan Show. We have a very special guest tonight, ladies and gentlemen - Mr. Harry Potter." He turns to me. "Thanks for coming, Harry. Now, you were eleven years old before you knew you were a wizard, isn't that right?"

"That's right," I say, taking a deep breath. "And I was only eleven years old when I learned that Lord Voldemort had returned."

****

"That's an amazing story," Lee says an hour later, staring at me. It's the most serious I've ever seen him look - except for at Fred's funeral. "Harry, I think I speak for all of our listeners when I say - thank you."

"It's me that should be saying that," I protest uncomfortably. My throat's hoarse from speaking so long. "If it wasn't for the help I got from all sorts of people I'd never have been able to do it."

"Ron and Hermione," Lee says, nodding. "Professor Dumbledore, of course…"

"_All_ of the Hogwarts professors," I say firmly.

I'm sure Lee didn't miss the emphasis on "all", because his eyebrows go up slightly, but he evidently thinks that's material best left for another show. "I'm sure the list is far too long for us to mention everyone tonight," he says smoothly. "Again, I want to thank you for joining me, and I'm really looking forward to next week's show."

"And now I've got one more special announcement," Lee says, winking at me. "Tom from the Leaky Cauldron is having a special contest. If you happened to be in the pub last Friday evening, listen closely, because you could win a week's stay at the Leaky Cauldron for two - meals included! All you have to do is answer a few simple questions designed to test just how observant you are. Question number one: what did the waiter in the black robes look like? Question two: where did he go when he left the pub? If you think you know the answers, send an owl to the Wizarding Wireless Network - and don't forget your contact information! And now, a word from our sponsor - Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions."

The green light goes out. "It's a commercial," Lee says. "It's okay to talk."

I would, if I had a voice left. "Thanks, Lee," I croak, shaking hands. "Let me know what sort of response you get, yeah?"

"I'll let you know right away," Lee says. "You're welcome to hang around and listen to the talking cat, if you like."

"I'll pass," I say, grinning. "But give it my regards."

I have second thoughts once I'm out in the corridor. It's not likely they'll get any owls tonight, I suppose, but maybe I ought to wait around for an hour or so just to see if-

I duck just in time as three owls come whooshing down the corridor. They're quickly followed by several more.

The production assistant comes out into the corridor and immediately looks annoyed. "Bloody Lee and his contests," she says irritably. "He might have let me know he was going to do that. Look at all these owls - and I'm sure there'll be more."

She's only too right. We both duck this time.

"I'll help you with the letters," I say quickly. "Lee - er - told me what the right answers were. How about if you sort out the owls and I'll open the envelopes?"

"Thanks," the girl says, looking mollified. "It wasn't a bad idea, actually - it's great publicity for his show - but these things really ought to be arranged in advance." She reaches for the first owl and then stops, holding out her hand to me. "I'm Audra, by the way."

"Harry," I say, even though she probably knows.

"Great show, Harry," Audra says, accepting envelopes from three owls at once and passing them over to me. "Ever thought about a career in broadcasting?"

"No, thanks," I say firmly. "I've got quite enough on at the moment." I open the first envelope. It's from a witch who says she wasn't at the Cauldron on Friday night, but she's sure she saw a man in black robes there on the previous Monday… I toss it aside and open the next.

"Half these people weren't even there," I say disgustedly, ten minutes later. "Why bother writing in if you don't know the answer?"

"That always happens," Audra says matter-of-factly. "Here, I'll give you a hand. I can weed out the obvious losers, anyway."

She tears open an envelope and scans the parchment inside. "Here's a good one," she says, smiling at me wryly. "This bloke claims he _is_ the waiter. Well, you get all sorts."

I almost rip the parchment from her hand.

_"I don't know if I qualify for your contest,"_ it begins. _"But I can certainly tell you what the waiter looked like and where he went, because it was me! If this entitles me to the prize, you can reach me at Number 7, Winding Lane. Respectfully yours, Amadeus Sinclair."_

"Excuse me for a moment," I say politely to Audra. "I've just got to send a message to someone."

She's still sorting letters when I get back. "Tell me something," she says, not looking up. "You were at school with Lee, weren't you? Has he always been such an impossible flirt? And do you know if he's dating anyone now?"

"As far as I know, he's single," I say, deciding not to go anywhere near the first part of her question. I've been playing matchmaker all weekend, it seems like - next thing you know, I'll be mixing up Love Potions in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place.

Audra nods, looking pleased. "Here, take these," she says, handing me the stack of letters. "I've got to go - the talking cat's finished. See you next week, Harry."

The door's hardly closed behind her when Robards appears. "We have a winner," I say, waving the parchment at him. "Number 7, Winding Lane."

**Draco**

Bloody Potter. Can't stand being out of the limelight, can he? I guess he wasn't feeling famous enough these days, so he had to go and get on a radio program. I wouldn't have bothered listening, but Clarissa insisted on hearing it.

It's utter crap, of course - you can't tell me Potter, Granger and Weasley got up to all that when we were only in first year - but Clarissa obviously believes every word of it. "You were at school with them," she reminds me, like I didn't already know. "Didn't anyone else realize all that was going on?"

"No, because it wasn't," I say, but Clarissa's not listening.

"He's going to be on again next week," she says happily. "Good - I can't wait to hear the rest."

I can. "Don't you want to listen to the talking cat?" I say, when Clarissa goes to switch the radio off. "I'm sure it'll make at least as much sense as Potter did."

Clarissa gives me an odd look. "You're jealous of him," she says quietly.

Of _Potter_? "Don't make me laugh," I say.

Clarissa takes my hand in hers. "Draco, I know your father and Harry Potter were on different sides," she says. "But can't you see how _wrong_ everything would have been if Voldemort had won?"

My father wasn't the only one on the opposite side. I feel my arm burning, where the Dark Mark used to be. It faded away after the Dark Lord was defeated, but sometimes, in the right light, I can almost see it. I feel almost as though Clarissa can see it now through my sleeve.

"I've got to go," I say, wrenching my hand away.

Clarissa follows me to the door. "Don't go now, not when you're angry with me," she says.

"I'm not angry with you," I say, forcing myself to smile at her. "Potter always got on my nerves, that's all."

"Prove it, then," Clarissa says, lifting her face to mine.

I kiss her, even though I know I'm playing with fire. I'm getting in deeper every day. What would Father say if he knew I was involved with a blood traitor?

"I'll see you tomorrow," I say, pulling away.

I'm half-expecting Rodolphus to pounce as I come up the walk, but there's no sign of him. Probably holed up listening to Potter like everyone else.

Lurleen's hovering in the front hall as I let myself in. "Your father wants to see you," she tells me.

Now what? I hope he didn't hear that broadcast - he'll be in an absolutely foul mood if he did.

There's no sign of a radio when I go into Father's study, but he looks annoyed just the same. "I understand you've been seeing a girl from a blood traitor family," he says coldly. "I want it to stop immediately."

Just like that. As though I've no feelings of my own. "Who told you?" I demand. Millicent Bulstrode caught me and Clarissa kissing in the lift day before yesterday - I'll bet it was her.

"Does it matter?" Father says dismissively. "Do I have your word that you'll break things off with this girl?"

"No," I say.

Father looks astounded. I don't think I've ever said no to him before. "Don't be an idiot," he says. "This girl's clearly a spy - she probably works for the Aurors."

"I know," I say. "So it makes sense for me to keep seeing her, doesn't it? That way I'll know exactly what she's telling them."

Father's mouth hangs open for a minute, and then he laughs. "So you're going to spy on the spy, is that it?" he says, almost admiringly. "Well done, Draco! Maybe you're a chip off the old block after all."

I don't know why he had to put it like that. Haven't I proven myself to him over and over again already? How many other sixteen year old kids had the Dark Mark put on them? How many other sixteen year olds -

"You might try telling her that some of the escaped Death Eaters have been spotted in Siberia," Father's saying, his good humor totally restored. "It would be amusing to see if Robards went chasing up there - especially at this time of year."

"Yeah, I'll do that," I say. "I'm going to bed - I'm a bit tired."

I turn and leave quickly, nearly knocking Lurleen over as I go. She was probably listening at the keyhole. "Why are you always lurking about?" I say crossly to her. "Go on back to the kitchen or something."

Lurleen goes without comment, but the backward look she gives me is a bit unsettling.

**Hermione**

Lee Jordan turns out to be an excellent radio host. He lets Harry speak for the most part, interrupting only to clarify something or ask a question. Of course, it's a fascinating story, even though Harry (obviously) has to leave out quite a few things that are better kept to ourselves.

The contest announcement comes as a surprise. "So that was it," I say as an ad for Madam Malkin's comes on. "That's why we've got to stay here till tomorrow."

"That's the only reason Robards let Harry go on that program," Ron says. "I'll bet he's got all sorts of things planned for the other episodes."

"Well, why not?" I say. "Maybe someone saw something."

"They're going to get all kinds of crackpot answers," Ron says cynically. "People will be making stuff up left and right trying to win that prize. I wonder how they talked old Tom into it - it's worth a good bit of gold."

"He probably feels terrible about us nearly getting poisoned," I say, although I think myself that Harry probably put up the money for it.

"The show's back on," Ron says, diverted. "I want to hear this talking cat." He stretches out, making himself comfortable. "Fancy rubbing my back?"

I'm not interested in the talking cat - honestly, I never heard of anything so ridiculous - but I do want to hear if Lee says anything more about the contest.

"That's it, I reckon," Ron says, when the cat-woman finally departs after several endless minutes. "Want to listen to anything else, or shall we switch it off?"

"Hang on," I say. Lee's speaking again.

"I want to thank all of you for listening this evening, and I hope you'll be back her again next Sunday evening when Harry Potter will return to give us the next installment of what's turned out to be the most thrilling story of our time," Lee says. "Oh, and my producer's just handed me a note saying we've got a winner in the Leaky Cauldron contest, so if you haven't already sent in your answers, I'm afraid it's too late! We'll be announcing the winner's name on my next show. Again, I'd like to thank my guests and our sponsor, Madam Mal-"

Ron flicks his wand at the radio, lowering the volume. "They've got him already," he says. "That was quick. What did I tell you, Hermione - we'll be out of here tomorrow."

**Rodolphus**

I wait several minutes after she's gone to make sure she hasn't been followed. The news she brought was unsettling, to say the least.

"I don't think Draco's got a clue what's going on," she told me. "It couldn't have been more obvious that he didn't know I was the person he was meant to contact. If you ask me, he's never even looked at that list."

"And the coin?" I said tensely. "Has he never mentioned the coin?"

"He's never mentioned _anything_," she said. "I know he's your nephew, but I think he's become rather a liability."

"I have no particular fondness for him - or any Malfoy," I assured her quickly. "My loyalty is only to our cause." These people tend to get carried away - I wouldn't want anyone to think I ought to be eliminated simply because my fool of a nephew can't follow orders.

She nodded, satisfied. "I'll have someone take care of it," she said. "Don't worry - it'll look like an accident."

"But the list - and the coin," I reminded her. "We've got to get them back first. If he's hidden them somewhere in the house, Lucius is likely to stumble upon them. We can't let him get the upper hand again."

"You'd better find them, then," she'd said coolly, turning to go. "I can put them off for another day or so, but after that, things are likely to get… difficult."

With that, she'd walked back down the alley and Disapparated.

It seems to be perfectly safe, but I can't quite bring myself to leave yet. Draco's useless; I'll have to search the house myself. I'd best arrange for Lucius and Narcissa to be elsewhere, under the circumstances. There's a simple spell that ought to guarantee me an empty house. As soon as the boy leaves for the Ministry tomorrow, I'll get to work. There's no time to lose, now that Potter's telling his story to the world. 

**Harry**

I'm ready to go to Winding Lane straight off, but Robards puts a hand on my arm. "A moment, Mr. Potter," he says sternly. "We must proceed carefully. This could very well be a trap."

"It doesn't sound like a trap," I argue. "And if it is, so much the better. We might be able to catch more than one of them."

"Not by ourselves," Robards says. I watch as he sends off a Patronus, speaking so quietly that I don't manage to catch the words. "We shall dispatch a team of Aurors to this address - and no, Mr. Potter, you will not be among them! - to secure the area first. Once we have ascertained that it is safe to do so, we shall proceed - carefully. Mr. Sinclair will be questioned, and if necessary, Mr. Weasley can be brought in to identify him."

I know he's right, but I hate just sitting around like this while other Aurors are having all the excitement. "Where are we going to question him?" I ask. "At the Ministry?"

"Certainly not," Robards says briskly. "That would cause suspicion, would it not? The Aurors who are going to his home will instruct Mr. Sinclair to accompany them here, to the Wizarding Wireless Network building. I trust they will be able to accommodate us?" He looks around expectantly.

I reckon I'd better go and find Audra again, although I can't imagine what I'm going to tell her. To my relief, Lee pokes his head out into the corridor. "Still here, Harry?" he asks. "Audra said you thought you'd got a winner. I - " He belatedly notices Robards and stops in mid-sentence.

I introduce the two of them quickly and explain what we need. "You can use my office," Lee offers.

"That will do nicely," Robards says, heading for the open door immediately. "Mr. Potter, please wait here for Miss Duckworthy and Miss Jones, who should be arriving shortly with Mr. Sinclair."

"He'd make a great subject for an interview," Lee says, staring longingly after Robards. "Do you think - "

"Not a chance," I say.

Lee sighs. "Do you want me to get out of here?" he asks. "I could wait in Audra's office - it'll give her another chance to turn me down for a date."

"No, stay," I say impulsively. "It'll make it seem more legitimate to this Sinclair bloke - after all, he heard it on your program."

The wait isn't as long as I'd expected. After about twenty minutes, I see Perdita appear around the corner. "All clear?" she asks, and I nod.

Perdita glances over her shoulder and signals to someone. A few seconds later, I see Hestia Jones leading a man in black robes by the arm. She ignores me and goes straight up to Lee.

"Mr. Jordan, this gentleman believes he may have the correct answers to your contest questions," she says, managing to sound as though this is, in fact, just an ordinary radio competition.

"Excellent," Lee says, masking his surprise at being addressed. "My - er - associate in the next room will just need to ask him a few questions first." He looks after us wistfully as we head into his office. I can tell he's thinking what a good story it'd make for his next broadcast.

Robards nods at Hestia, and she steps back outside - guarding the corridor, probably.

Robards takes one of the chairs, motioning the man in black robes into the other. "Mr. Sinclair, we should like to thank you for agreeing to come down here on a Sunday evening," he says.

"It's me that ought to be thanking you," Amadeus Sinclair says eagerly. "I said to Doris - that's my wife - that I didn't know as I ought to write in - I was thinking it might have been part of the contest, see, when the lady asked me to take the champagne in - but Doris says, well, why not give it a go, Amadeus, so I did, and - "

"Quite right," Robards says, cutting in smoothly. "Now, if you wouldn't mind telling us everything from the beginning. You say a lady asked you to bring champagne to someone?"

Amadeus immediately looks worried. "Maybe I oughtn't to have told you that bit," he says. "She said not to tell anyone - but if it's your contest, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you? I've still won, haven't I? Even though I already got paid? I hope it doesn't disqualify me - she only gave me five Galleons, you know, and with me being out of work and Doris - "

Robards looks flustered for the first time. "Yes, well," he says at random. Perdita shoots me an amused look.

"You've still won," I say, stepping forward. "We just want you to tell us exactly what took place. It's - it's part of the contest, you see."

"Oh," Amadeus says, reassured. "Well, I reckon I can do that all right. I - " He stops and squints at me. "Blimey, it's Harry Potter, isn't it?"

"Yes," I say, shaking hand briskly. "Very nice to meet you. Now about that lady - "

"Wait'll I tell Doris," Amadeus says happily. "Right, then - the lady! Well, I was sitting in the Leaky Cauldron having a pint on Friday afternoon - just the one, mind, because gold's a bit tight these days - when this lady comes up and sits down at my table. She tells me some friends of hers are celebrating their engagement that night, and would I be willing to help her surprise them with some champagne? There's five Galleons in it for you, she said to me, and mind you don't speak of it to a soul." He looks worried again as he says this.

"It's quite all right to tell us," I say. "Go on, please."

"Right," Amadeus says. "Well, there's not much more to it, is there? She met me in the alley beforehand and gave me a bottle of champagne - and the five Galleons - and told me just what room to go into. So I went in - and the young couple looked like they were engaged, right enough - at least, they didn't seem too pleased to see me, champagne or not - mind, Doris and I were young once, so I reckon I know how they felt…"

"Mr. Sinclair," Robards says, sounding rather desperate.

"Right, right, I ought to be getting on with it," Amadeus says. "I poured the champagne in their glasses like the lady'd told me - funny; the bottle was already open - and then the young gentleman finally gave me a tip after the young lady told him to - oh dear, you don't suppose I ought to give it back, do you?"

"No," I say, thinking privately that Ron would probably disagree with me. "Then what?"

"Well, I could see they wanted to be on their own, so I went along home," Amadeus says. He leans forward confidentially. "I thought at the time it was an odd sort of thing to do," he says. "I mean, if she wanted to send them champagne why not have it waiting in the room for them? But there's no understanding women, sometimes - even Doris." He sighs and shakes his head.

"Mr. Sinclair, can you describe the woman who gave you the champagne?" Robards asks, wisely deciding to let this last comment go.

"Well, she was youngish," Amadeus says thoughtfully. "I could tell that from her voice."

I glance at Robards, but his expression is unreadable. "Couldn't you see her face?" Perdita's asking.

"Well, it was a bit hard, that," Amadeus says. "She'd a cloak on, with a hood, and it was mostly covering her face."

"And you didn't find that unusual?" Perdita asks.

"I did at first," Amadeus says. "But then, when she was leaving after she gave me the champagne, the wind blew her hood back a bit and I got a look at her - and then I understood."

We wait, but he's apparently finished. "Understood what?" I ask.

"Why she kept her face covered, of course," Amadeus answers, looking surprised. He shakes his head again. "Terrible skin condition, she had. Shame, really - she was such a nice young lady."

**Ron**

"I knew she'd say something like that," I say, disgusted. "It's what they all say when they're caught."

"Well, she _might_ have been Imperiused," Perdita says. "The problem is that there's no way to disprove it - that's why it's so popular as a defense."

"Do you think she was?" I ask.

Perdita shrugs. "Hard to say, really. She kept saying 'he' told her to do it, but when we questioned her further, she didn't seem to know what she was talking about. Mind, that'd be about right if she really had been Imperiused, but with all the articles that've been written about it, just about anybody could fake the symptoms. When Harry and I searched her place we found all sorts of cuttings from the _Prophet_ about the recent trials."

"Harry went with you to arrest her?" I say, feeling a bit put out. I'm Perdita's partner, after all. "Why didn't you come and get me? I would've gone with you."

Hermione pats my arm soothingly. "Perdita didn't know where you were, remember?" she says.

Oh yeah. "What about the perfume?" I ask, changing the subject.

"She claimed she didn't know anything about that," Perdita says. "But it looks bad, with her working at the _Daily Prophet_ and all. She'd certainly have the opportunity." She glances past me at Hermione. "Are you all right?"

"It's all my fault," Hermione whispers, clutching my hand tightly. "I'm the one she hates - it's because of that jinx I put on her at school."

"Look," I say, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "You didn't put a jinx on her - you put it on the sign-up list. It was Marietta's own fault for turning us in."

"I don't think Marietta sees it like that," Hermione says.

"What are you talking about?" Perdita asks. "What jinx?"

Hermione and I both explain it to her, filling in the ends of each other's sentences. "So that's what happened to her face," Perdita says, looking entertained. "I thought it looked a bit like letters on there, but it seems to have faded a bit. Well, Ron's right, Hermione. It's her own fault."

"But if I hadn't done it, she wouldn't be after us now," Hermione says miserably. "I nearly got both of us poisoned."

"I asked Marvin, and he says the bubotuber pus probably wouldn't have killed you," Perdita says reassuringly. "Although I expect it wouldn't have been the most romantic way to end your evening." She smiles at both of us. "At least you haven't got to be in hiding anymore," she says.

"Yeah, we get to go back to work tomorrow," I say. "Cheers, Perdita."

"_Hermione_ goes back tomorrow," Perdita corrects me. "_You_ can start now - we're still following up on those contest letters to see if anyone noticed anything else unusual that night." She tosses me a bundle of envelopes. "Here you are."

"I'll help you," Hermione says eagerly.

Well, that won't be half bad. No reason we can't be comfortable and read them in front of the sitting room fire, is there?

Perdita's looking around the front hallway. "Bit spooky, this place, isn't it?" she says.

"You should've seen it before," I tell her. It seems weird to see Perdita in Grimmauld Place - it seems weird to see _anyone_ here - but I was glad to see her show up. That Patronus Robards sent us this morning didn't say anything except for us to go straight home and wait to be contacted. Mind, it was a bit of a letdown to find out it was just Marietta Edgecombe - we didn't exactly need to go into hiding for _her_ - but -

"Perdita?" I say. "That woman who talked to Reg Cattermole - he said she was pretty. There's no way that was Marietta."

"Yeah, we thought of that," Perdita says. "I brought Reg in to have a look at her this morning, but he said he'd never seen her before in his life."

"So…" I say.

"So something's still going on," Perdita admits. "But Gawain thinks it's not related to the attacks on you and Hermione." She turns to go. "Send me a message if you find anything in those letters," she says. "Otherwise I'll see you tomorrow, Ron. Oh, and congratulations to the two of you. It'll be a great story to tell your kids one day!"

"That's what I said," I say.

"I nearly forgot," Perdita says, one hand on the door. "Gawain sent you these. You're to carry them at all times." She tosses a small glass jar in my direction.

"Bezoars," I say, pleased. "See, Hermione - I told you it was a good idea." My hand brushes against my lucky coin as I tuck a bezoar into my pocket. Maybe I ought to just spend it on something - it didn't exactly bring me good luck, did it? But on second thought… we didn't drink the poison, and Hermione did say she'd marry me. So maybe it was lucky after all. I reckon I'll hang on to it for a bit longer - unless I'm really broke.

Hermione's looking worried. "I wish I'd thought to ask her where I was supposed to be today," she says. "I don't know what they told them at the House-Elf Relocation Office."

"Probably just said you were ill or something," I say, leading her back into the sitting room. "Mind you don't act too energetic tomorrow or they'll think you were skiving off."

"Miranda's going to think so anyway," Hermione says, sitting down next to me and reaching for the pile of letters. "She knew we had a big date planned… but I don't think she'd say anything about it to anyone else."

It doesn't take long to go through the letters - mainly because most of them are rubbish from people who weren't even there. "I've got one woman who saw a waiter going into the back and assumed it was some sort of private party," I say, setting her letter aside. "How about you?"

"This man identifies the waiter as 'old Amadeus who always has a pint at the Cauldron on a Friday'," Hermione says. "He says he called out to him to see if he'd been hired on, but Amadeus evidently didn't hear him."

Well, it backs up what Amadeus Sinclair told Harry, I guess. "Only three left," I say, picking up the remaining letters. "Let's each do one and then whoever's finished first can do the last one." Probably Hermione'll finish first - she reads faster than I do.

Hermione doesn't answer, and for a minute I think she's on to me. "Hermione?" I say, offering her the stack.

"What did Perdita mean?" she asks abruptly.

What? I look at her blankly.

"When she was identifying herself, before we let her in," Hermione explains. "She said something about telling you her family secret, and thanks for not letting it make a difference."

Oh, _that_. For a minute I wonder if I ought to tell, but Perdita said herself that heaps of people already know. "Her name's not really Duckworthy," I explain. "She's a Gamp - but she doesn't have anything to do with her family."

"A Gamp?" Hermione says. "Like Damaris?"

"They're second cousins or something," I say. "But I don't think Perdita talks to Damaris, either."

I wait to see what Hermione's going to say. It's totally obvious to me that Perdita's not a Death Eater sympathizer - and anyway, she was a Ravenclaw at school; I asked her - but Hermione doesn't know her as well as I do.

"Poor Perdita," she says at last. "It's a bit like Sirius, isn't it?"

"It's exactly like Sirius," I say, relieved. "And her fiance's a Muggle-born, you know."

"I still haven't met him," Hermione reminds me. "We really ought to try to reschedule those drinks, now that we're not in hiding anymore."

She reaches for the letters in my hand and then stops, staring at me. "Damaris is awfully pretty," she says thoughtfully.

Where the hell did that come from? "She's scary-looking," I say.

Hermione ignores me. "Maybe it was her that talked to Reg Cattermole," she says. "Would you say Damaris had a - what did Reg say - a 'nice shape to her'?"

I'm not going anywhere near that one. "Why Damaris?" I ask instead. "I know you don't like her, but there's no evidence linking her to any kind of Death Eater activities, is there?"

"I don't know," Hermione says restlessly. "I suppose she must have been cleared if she kept her job at the Ministry - and she seems to have spent most of the last few years shopping - but there's just something suspicious about her, all the same."

"You mean because she's thick with the Malfoys?" I ask. It's the only thing I've ever heard Hermione say about Damaris that sounds remotely suspicious.

"What makes you say that?" Hermione asks quickly. "Have you seen them together?"

What? "No," I say. "I've never seen her at all, except in the corridor that day I went looking for you. But didn't you tell me she wanted to give the Malfoys a house-elf or something?"

"Yes," Hermione says slowly. "I thought it was just because they're rich, but it could be - oh, Ron, you're brilliant!"

She throws her arms around my neck. I don't know what I said, but I'm not about to argue. "Want to go upstairs?" I whisper suggestively. "We could finish off these letters later on."

"We haven't got time for that now," Hermione says firmly, disengaging herself. "You're going to have to go in to the Ministry right away."

I drop back down on the sofa, staring at her. "Why've I got to go in to the Ministry?" I protest.

"So you can look up Damaris in that Record Room Harry told us about," Hermione says. "I'm sure there's a file on her in there."

**Draco**

Old Edgecombe never showed up at all this morning, and the rest of us have all slacked off as a result. Well, all except Prissy-Pants Hobart - he keeps tutting under his breath and shooting disapproving looks around the room, but we're ignoring him. The other Correctors are having a game of Gobstones, and Clarissa and I are sitting by ourselves talking about not much of anything.

"Let's go to lunch early and come back late," I say, taking her hand. "Actually, let's not come back at all."

"You're a bad influence," Clarissa says primly, but I can tell she's thinking about it.

"Come on," I say coaxingly. "Let's pick up sandwiches or something and take them back to your flat."

"All right, let's," Clarissa says, giving in. "But we're back here at two o'clock, mind!"

I reckon I can talk her out of that when the time comes. "Let's go," I say, urging her toward the door. Hobart gasps theatrically and looks pointedly at his watch. "Bye, Hobart," I say, smirking at him.

We're waiting for the lift when an owl flies up. "Funny, he looks just like our one at home," I say to Clarissa. "He even has the same markings on his wings and - "

"I'd say he _is_ your one from home," Clarissa says, as the owl swoops up and drops a letter at my feet.

Bloody hell - what does Mother want now? "_Accio_ letter," I say, trying to hide my irritation.

"I hope nothing's wrong," Clarissa says, watching my face anxiously.

"Not exactly," I say, folding the letter and stuffing it into my pocket. "Mother said the house is full of fog, and she can't get rid of it. She thinks someone's put a jinx on it, and not to come home till they've sorted it out. She and Father are going to a hotel."

"There was a lot of that happening at the Ministry last year," Clarissa says. "Lionel - you know, the senior Corrector - was telling me about it. He said it kept raining in people's offices. I wish I could remember what he said they did about it. Want me to go back and ask?" She half-turns back toward the room we've just left.

"No," I say, grabbing her arm. "Father's very clever - I'm sure he'll manage."

"It seems an odd sort of thing to happen," Clarissa says, but I'm not surprised at all. Men like Father always have enemies, don't they? It seems a bit childish, though - you'd think they could have come up with something more intimidating than fog.

It's not till much later (when I've successfully overridden Clarissa's protests and talked her into spending the afternoon alone with me) that I realize the error in my thinking. You wouldn't use fog to threaten someone. You'd use it if you wanted him to clear out for awhile and leave his house open to you. There's no doubt in my mind that Rodolphus Lestrange is in our house right now. And he's probably looking for that envelope he gave me.

**Harry**

"I told you, I was Imperiused," Marietta says pettishly. "I don't know anything more than what I've told you already."

She's got a nerve, pulling that attitude on us. Hestia evidently agrees with me, for she steps forward and gives Marietta a stern look. "Perhaps a few days in Azkaban will help jolt your memory," she says coolly. "It's been known to work before. Harry, if you wouldn't mind summoning the guards for us…"

"No!" Marietta says quickly. "Please, I don't want to go to prison." She manages to squeeze out a few tears, but I'm past feeling sorry for her.

"You should've thought of that before you tried to poison Ron and Hermione," I say. "Give it up, Marietta. No one believes you were Imperiused. You've hated Hermione ever since your sixth year at Hogwarts."

"Do you blame me?" Marietta asks shrilly. "Look what she did to me!"

"You did it to yourself," I say. "If you'd kept your promise, you'd never have been jinxed."

Marietta seems to wilt in front of us. "It was bad enough when she got a job at the Ministry without even having to take her NEWTs," she says in a low voice. "But then when I heard Ron telling Hannah he was going to propose to her…"

It's the first time she's actually admitted to being in the pub, even though Hannah's already identified Madam Edgecombe as the witch who came up to the bar to purchase gillywater.

"This was in the Leaky Cauldron?" Hestia asks, exchanging a quick glance with me.

"Yes," Marietta says in a small voice. "I was waiting for Mum - she was in the Ladies' - and I saw Ron Weasley come in with some woman and a bunch of kids. I kept my back turned so he wouldn't notice me - not that men ever give _me_ a second look, anyway - and I listened to what he was telling Hannah. It made me so angry - Hermione Granger gets _everything_ her own way, and now she's getting married already and she's not even twenty yet!"

Hestia motions me to keep silent. "I can see why that would have upset you," she says sympathetically. "And that's when you decided to ruin things for her, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Marietta says. "I mean - no! I was just angry, that's all. And then Mum came back, and she said she'd got to go back to work, and I did, too, so we said goodbye and I - I - " She stops and looks at us blankly.

"You what?" Hestia says gently.

"I don't know," Marietta says helplessly. "I suppose I must have gone back to work, but I don't remember it. The next thing I remember after leaving the pub is waking up in my own bed on Saturday morning."

Hestia nods at me and we slip out of the room, closing the door behind us. "She's lying, isn't she?" I ask at once.

"I'm not sure," Hestia admits. "If she's faking, it's very well done. Although I've seen better, mind!" She sighs. "Look, Harry, why don't you leave me alone with her for a bit?" she suggests. "She might open up more to another woman."

"Right," I say, feeling secretly relieved. I've about lost patience with Marietta. "Send me a Patronus if you get anywhere, yeah?"

Hestia nods and turns back into the room, and I wonder what to do next. I'd like to go home and talk to Ron and Hermione - I haven't had a chance to see them since they got out of hiding - but maybe I'd better check in with Robards first.

The Auror Office seems strangely deserted when I go in. Even Persimmon's not at her desk. Robards' door is closed, but there's light coming from underneath it, so I'm pretty sure he's in there. I tap lightly on it and then try the handle.

Robards and a strange woman both look up at me, startled. "Sorry," I say, starting to back out hastily. "I didn't know you had company."

"Come in quickly and shut the door," Robards says sharply.

Oops. I reckon I shouldn't have interrupted - but how was I supposed to know? He never said not to come back.

The woman's regarding me with interest. "You're Harry Potter," she says, pleased. "I'm Lurleen Hedges. You were supposed to be my trainee, but I've been on assignment."

I vaguely remember Robards saying something like that when I passed my exam, but I was too blown away by the whole experience to take it in properly at the time. "Nice to meet you," I say, shaking hands. "Er - are you undercover as a maid someplace?"

It's not exactly difficult to figure out - she's dressed in a maid's uniform - but Lurleen Hedges gives me an approving look. "Very good," she says. "Now, if you want to really impress me, tell me _where_ I'm undercover."

It comes to me in a flash. "Lucius Malfoy's house," I say positively. "I know he keeps getting turned down by the House-Elf Relocation Office - and now I know why." (Well, Hermione's the other reason, but this explains why Kingsley was so quick to back her up.)

Lurleen looks positively delighted. "Excellent!" she says. "I do wish I'd been able to take you on, Harry, even though I normally hate training people."

Robards throws me a sour look. "Mr. Potter, you will speak of this to no one," he says coldly.

"For heaven's sake, Gawain," Lurleen says impatiently. "I'm sure he's trustworthy."

Robards barely glances at me. "Proceed," he says to her. "You were telling me that Malfoy Manor became inexplicably filled with fog this morning?"

Fog? Lurleen's nodding. "A simple weather charm, like the ones everyone was setting off in the Ministry last year," she says. "I could have put it right for them easily enough, but I wanted to see what would happen."

"I suppose we may assume from that statement that something did, in fact, happen?" Robards says calmly, but I can tell by the sudden tension in his voice that he's excited.

Lurleen nods. "Narcissa fired a couple of useless spells at it, and then completely packed it in and said she was off to a hotel," she says. "She tried to get in touch with Lucius, but he'd gone off somewhere or other, and the boy was at work. She told me to stay there and watch the house - like I could watch anything in all that fog, the silly cow - and then she left me alone - or so she thought." She pauses, eying us.

"Only you weren't alone?" I say.

"Not for long I wasn't," Lurleen says. "Narcissa'd hardly Disapparated when he came creeping in like the snake he is, slithering this way and that through the house. He was looking for something - and I'll make my guess that he didn't find it, with all the cursing he was doing!"

Robards seems determined not to ask, but I can't help it. "Who?" I say.

"Rodolphus Lestrange, that's who!" Lurleen says. "It took me by surprise - I was sure he was dead - but I'd have known him anywhere."

I glance at Robards. He looks interested, but not, I notice, particularly surprised by this news. "I always had my doubts about Rodolphus," he says calmly. "You'll recall that his body was never found. Well, so he's alive, is he? And looking for something at Malfoy Manor…"

I wonder, suddenly, if it's the same 'something' that Robards is looking for. I'll bet it is.

"He seemed to be concentrating his search in Draco's room," Lurleen says. "He tore it apart floor to ceiling - and that young man isn't going to be pleased about it, I can tell you, even though he'll probably order _me_ to clean it up!"

"But he left empty-handed?" Robards asks urgently. "You're sure of that?"

"Absolutely positive," Lurleen says emphatically. "I put a Disillusionment Charm on myself and watched him the entire time. He never even knew I was there."

Robards frowns in concentration. I turn back to Lurleen. "Then what did he do?" I ask.

"Then he left," Lurleen says. "I followed him, but he Disapparated just outside the house."

"It's of no importance," Robards says. "If he thinks young Draco has something of his, he'll be back for it." He gives me a tight smile. "Mr. Potter, I am about to grant a long-standing wish of yours," he says.

I can't help grinning at him. "I get to shadow Draco Malfoy," I say. "Don't I?"

**Hermione**

Once Ron's left, I'm half-sorry I sent him off. Not because I've changed my mind about Damaris - I most definitely haven't - but because now that I'm alone, I can't get my mind off Marietta. No matter what Ron and Perdita say, I can't help feeling as though it's partially my fault. Of course, she did break her word and betray everyone in the D.A., but I never realized the spots were going to last this long. It was the first time I'd ever tried a jinx like that.

Actually, now that I come to think of it, those spots _shouldn't_ have lasted this long. The spell specifically said the effects would wear off in six months to a year. So either I did something wrong, or Marietta's been going about tattling on people for the last several years and setting it off over and over again. I'm inclined to blame Marietta, but perhaps I'd better read over the spell again just to make sure it wasn't my error.

I climb the stairs, trying to remember which book I got the spell from. I rather think it was _Justifiable Jinxes_, although it may have been _1,001 Protective Charms_. They're both in my trunk, anyway - I'll just bring them both down to the sitting room and - goodness, there's that _Fantastic Beasts_ book from the Hogwarts library. Oh dear, I keep forgetting about it. Well, I'll bring that one down, too. If I can't fix it, I'll send them a new one next time I'm in Diagon Alley.

An envelope falls to the floor as I lift _Fantastic Beasts_ from my trunk. "_Accio_ envelope," I say, wondering. It could be something of Madam Pinze's, I suppose, or -

The parchment inside most assuredly does not belong to Madam Pinze. I stare at it in silence for a long minute before I gather my wits enough to send a Patronus summoning Ron. Then, just for good measure, I send one to Harry as well.

**Ron**

Persimmon's leaving the Auror Office just as I arrive. "Are you going out?" I ask, surprised. I didn't think Persimmon ever left except for lunch, and it's way past lunchtime now.

Persimmon looks just as surprised to see me. "You can't go in there," she says apologetically. "Gawain specifically said he doesn't want to be disturbed for the next hour."

"I don't want to disturb him," I say quickly. "I just want to look at one file. Go on, Persimmon - please? I'll just be a minute." She's the only one who can get me into the Records Room.

Persimmon shakes her head. "I don't dare," she says, glancing back over her shoulder. "Sorry, dear. Meet me back here in an hour and I'll help you find your files."

Well, an hour's not long. I reckon I can find something to do. "Do you know where Harry is?" I ask. "Or Perdita?"

"Perdita's gone over to the _Daily Prophet_ offices," Persimmon says. "And Harry and Hestia are questioning that Edgecombe girl." She shakes her head disapprovingly. "Such a thing to do to you and your young lady - and on the very night of your engagement!"

Bloody hell - Hermione's right. Everybody _does_ know already. "Er, Persimmon?" I say, hoping she hasn't already run into Dad in the lift or something. "Keep that to yourself, all right? We weren't planning to tell our families till Christmas."

Persimmon smiles at me. "I won't say a word, dear," she promises. "See you in an hour!"

I wander out to the lift, wondering what to do with myself. There's no point in going home - and I've already had lunch. A wizard wearing glasses exactly like Percy's walks past me and it gives me a sudden idea. I'll go to the joke shop and see George.

Verity looks up and waves as I come in. "They're in the back," she says.

They? Bloody hell, Percy's here - again. When's he going to go back to the Ministry? I find the pair of them arguing over Percy's black ink that turns blue.

"You just haven't marketed it properly," Percy's saying. "If you'd give it a good position - in the front window, say - "

"If I put that in the front window, nobody'd bother coming in!" George says irritably. He looks up and sees me. "Tell him, Ron."

"It's not funny, Perce," I explain. "Now, disappearing ink? That's funny. Or - or ink that says the words out loud in a silly voice as you're writing - that'd be funny, too. But black ink that turns blue isn't - "

George sits up straight. "What was that last one again?" he demands. "Ink that talks - well, that might be difficult, but we could definitely do it with a quill. Ron, you may have something there!" He pulls a scrap of parchment toward him and starts scribbling on it. "It could _sing_, even," he mutters.

It's the most interested I've seen him get about anything in the joke shop since - well, since Fred. Percy looks annoyed. "I don't find it amusing at all," he says stiffly. "But I suppose you can't expect anything more from a person who has no more sense of humor than a _cabbage_." He gets up and stalks out into the shop.

"A cabbage?" I say, looking after him.

"I compared him to one this morning," George explains, grinning at me.

I'd thought it was a bit too apt for Percy to come up with on his own. "He's driving me right round the bend," George is saying. "I know I can't run this place all on my own, but he's the last person I'd have picked to help me. I'd even rather have _you_."

"Thanks a lot," I say, annoyed. "I might not be as brilliant as you, but at least I'm not Percy."

"You're not half-bad at it, actually," George admits. "You know something, Ron? Why couldn't you be the one to help me?"

"Because I've got a job already," I remind him. "I'm an Auror, remember?"

"It doesn't seem to keep you all that busy," George says, unimpressed. "You've been in here twice already this week - you must have loads of time on your hands."

"I was working!" I protest, but he's given me an idea.

"Look, George," I say slowly. "I couldn't do it full time, but I reckon I could give you a few hours a week. That is, if the pay's decent."

George manages to look stunned, even though I'm sure he isn't. _"Pay?"_ he says. "I'm your brother!"

"And I don't work for nothing," I say. "Course, I reckon I could ask around at some of the other shops and see if any of them are looking for part-time help…"

George eyes me. "All right, let's hear it," he says. "Why are you suddenly in need of extra gold?"

I hesitate for a second - but maybe he'll pay me more if he knows why I want it. "All right, but you've got to swear not to tell Mum and Dad," I say.

George yawns. "I should think that goes without saying by now," he points out.

I glance over my shoulder to make sure Percy hasn't come back. "Hermione and I are engaged," I say in a low voice. "I want to buy her a ring for Christmas."

George breaks off another yawn in the middle and gapes at me. _"Engaged?"_ he repeats in a high-pitched voice. _"You?"_

"Shut up, will you?" I say, pulling out my wand and doing a quick Muffliato. "I don't want bloody Percy to hear - he'd go straight to Mum."

"Just out of curiosity, when are you planning to tell them?" George asks.

"Christmas," I explain. "That's why I want her to have the ring."

George shakes his head slowly. "Ron, how old are you?" he asks, like he doesn't already know.

"Nearly nineteen," I say defensively. "And shut up about it. It's got nothing to do with my age."

"You're _eighteen_," George says. "Eighteen and a bit - and you're already talking about being tied down for life!"

"Yeah, but it's to Hermione," I say. "I was always going to marry her anyway. This is just making it official."

George gives me an odd look. "I always thought you'd end up together," he says. "Fred - Fred used to say you'd never have the nerve to ask her out."

There was a time when that would've hurt, but strangely enough, I'm not bothered by it now. "Well, you were right," I say.

George sighs. "Five Galleons a week," he says abruptly. "And I hope Hermione knows what she's getting herself into."

"Ten," I say, ignoring his last comment.

"Seven," George counters. "And there's an extra five Galleons in it for you every time you come up with a usable idea."

I stick out my hand. "Deal," I say. "And I'll take the five for the singing quill now."

"It was me that thought of the singing bit," George protests, but he's reaching for his money bag as he speaks. He stops, holding the coins just out of reach. "Look, I'll give you ten Galleons right now if you'll be the one to tell Percy," he bargains.

I hesitate for a second - it's not going to be easy, getting rid of Percy - but engagement rings are expensive and there's not much time before Christmas.

"Okay," I say. "But I want to be paid in advance."

I'm just tucking my ten Galleons away when a silver blur rushes into the room, forming itself into an otter. "Ron, I need you to come home right away!" it says in Hermione's voice. "I've found out something important!"

George rolls his eyes. "Not even married yet and she's already ordering you about," he observes, grinning.

"Shut up," I say, getting up quickly. "She said it was important. I'd better go."

"Percy," George reminds me as I hurry out.

Bloody hell. I haven't got time for this now. "Percy, you're fired," I say abruptly, passing him on my way to the door. "I'm going to help George."

Percy stares at me, mouth open.

"Sorry, but you're crap at the joke business," I say apologetically. "You'd better go back to the Ministry. I've got to go. See you later, Verity!" 

**Harry**

I'm ready to begin at once, but Robards holds up a cautioning hand.

"As always, you are rushing in without first gaining a complete understanding of your subject," he says disapprovingly.

"He did all right against Voldemort," Lurleen points out, and I feel a rush of gratitude toward her.

Robards ignores this. "Miss Hedges can give you valuable information about young Malfoy," he says to me. "I suggest that you listen to her closely." He gestures at Lurleen, who grins at me before speaking.

"Well, you know Draco Malfoy's working for the Broom Regulatory Control Office," she begins, and I nod.

"That's what first made me suspect he was up to something," I say.

"It made all of us suspicious," Lurleen says. "I thought at first that he was just doing it to annoy Lucius - and there's no denying that's a nice little side-effect - but it's not the main reason. Someone's been getting in touch with him on a regular basis - someone he doesn't particularly like hearing from."

"Rodolphus," I say at once, and then the rest of her words sink in. "Wait - you said Malfoy _doesn't_ like hearing from him?"

"He's afraid of him," Lurleen says simply. "He's in way over his head, I should think - I'd almost feel sorry for him if he wasn't such an unpleasant little beast. Anyway, from what I can piece together, it seems as though Rodolphus had put him in charge of doing something, and Draco's muffed it up somehow."

"What?" I ask, and Lurleen shrugs.

"I haven't been able to find out," she admits. "But he's evidently got something he isn't supposed to have - or Rodolphus thinks he does, anyway."

I'm silent, trying to think. "What about the girl?" Robards is asking, and I look up. I remember Robards saying something about that before.

"Clarissa Clarke," Lurleen says. "Draco's co-worker in the Broom Regulatory Control Office - and a member of a well-known blood traitor family. In other words, not the sort of girl you'd expect a Malfoy to be dating. Or who'd want to date him, for that matter."

"Are they definitely dating?" I ask. "You're sure?"

"Well, young Draco had quite an argument with Lucius about it," Lurleen says, looking amused. "Lucius was in a rage - but Draco smoothed things over by claiming he was doing a bit of counter-espionage."

Counter… oh. "Lucius thinks she's a spy," I say, getting it. "And Draco said he was spying on her as well?"

"Precisely," Lurleen says. "Lucius believed him, but I'm not sure I do. There seems to be a genuine attachment there."

I look at Robards. "_Is_ Clarissa a spy?" I ask. I'm not sure if he's going to answer me or not - he has a habit of ignoring my questions if they're inconvenient - but to my surprise, he does.

"Not for us, she isn't," he says briefly. He coughs slightly. "I believe Miss Clarke to be merely misguided," he adds.

Well, misguided's one word for it. Stark raving mad's another.

"Clarissa went to Beauxbatons, and spent most of her summers in France," Lurleen's saying. "When she took the job at the Ministry last July, she hadn't been in England for nearly two years. It's quite likely that she knew nothing about the Malfoys, other than the fact that Lucius had been accused - and cleared - of Death Eater crimes."

"Then she can't have told her parents she's dating Draco," I say positively. "Even if _she_ doesn't know what he is, _they're_ bound to realize."

"I wouldn't think she's told them anything," Lurleen agrees. "The Clarkes have an estate on the south coast, and rarely come to London. Clarissa's got her own flat in Diagon Alley." She grins at me. "I expect you'll come to know it well, Harry."

I look at Robards. "Have you got the address?" I ask. "I'd better go and find it - after I make sure Malfoy's where he's supposed to be."

Robards sighs and scribbles something on a piece of parchment. "There," he says, sounding exasperated. "Be extremely careful, Mr. Potter - and send me a Patronus at once if you see any sign of Rodolphus Lestrange." He glares at me. "This is exceptionally delicate work," he says. "If you're seen - "

"I won't be seen," I assure him quickly. "I've got my Invisibility Cloak with me." I reach for the parchment. "Can I go, then?"

"Go," Robards says testily.

"No need to tail him into the Manor, Harry," Lurleen says, as I'm leaving. "I've got that end covered."

I can't help being relieved to hear her say this. I've no wish to revisit Malfoy Manor. It'll be a long time before the events of that night fade enough for that.

I pause uncertainly outside the door to the Proofreaders Room. Malfoy won't be able to see me under the Invisibility Cloak, but it might look a bit suspicious if the door suddenly opened all on its own. Still, how else am I supposed to know if he's in there?

While I'm hesitating, a wizard rushes around the corner and throws the door open. "Ah, she's still not here," he says, sounding disgusted. "I needn't have hurried, then."

"I don't think we'll see her at all today," another man says, looking up from a copy of _Which Broomstick?_. "Anyway, you're the first back - except for old Hobart there."

A wizard in the corner - Hobart, presumably - looks up and glares at them. "_Some_ of us are trying to work," he says pointedly.

"Just you, I think," the first man says to him cheerfully. He turns back to the wizard with the magazine. "Think the others'll show at all?"

"Not Malfoy and Clarissa, that's for sure," the man answers. "He was trying to talk her into skiving off for the afternoon - and I don't think he had to try very hard. They were going back to her place."

The first wizard smirks knowingly. "Ah, to be young again!" he says. "Well, we'll not see Lionel either - he said something about going to- "

I don't wait to hear what the unknown Lionel's up to. I slip around the corner and consult the parchment Robards gave me. It looks like Clarissa's flat is above a row of shops in Diagon Alley - convenient, since as Lurleen said, I'm likely to be spending a lot of time there.

I'm on my way there when Hermione's Patronus finds me.

**Hermione**

"I couldn't understand what the names on here all had in common, at first," I explain. "And then I recognized some of them and I realized - "

"Some of them are people from families who were suspected of Death Eater activity that got off," Ron finishes for me. "Only I don't recognize some of the others." He leans over my shoulder. "Why's it written like that?" he asks.

"Like what?" I say, not understanding.

"There's big gaps in it," Ron says, pointing. "Look - Adrian Pucey's name is the first one, but it's almost a third of the way down the page - and there's another big space between Xanthia Davis and Persephone Burke."

I hold the parchment closer, trying to see if anything else is written there, but Ron's right. "Maybe there used to be something there," I say hopefully. I touch my wand to the page. _"Specialis revelio!"_

Nothing happens. "That spell never works," Ron says. "I don't know why you always have to try it."

Honestly. "It does, too, work," I say, annoyed. "It - "

"Can I see it?" Harry interrupts. He takes the list from me. "Where'd you say you found it?" he asks.

"It was tucked inside that damaged copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ that I brought from the Hogwarts library," I explain. "And I'm sure it wasn't there when I first worked on the book, so someone must have put it there when it was stacked up on that table in the corridor."

"Malfoy," Harry says positively. "Malfoy must have hidden it there. And I'll bet that's got something to do with what Rodolphus is looking for - " He stops in mid-sentence.

Ron and I both stare at him. "Rodolphus?" Ron asks. "As in Lestrange? I thought he was dead."

Harry looks back at us, trapped. "Don't let on I said it, all right?" he says quickly. "No one's supposed to know."

"Well, we know now," Ron points out. "You might as well tell us the whole story."

"Only if you can," I say quickly, squeezing Ron's arm.

"All right," Harry says after a minute. "Well, I can't tell you everything, but I can tell you this much. Rodolphus Lestrange was seen searching for something in Malfoy Manor today. And - and Robards is looking for something, too, but I don't know what."

"And you think it's the same thing," I say, nodding. "Didn't he give you any idea what it was?"

"Hey, maybe it's that list!" Ron interrupts.

Harry looks doubtful. "I don't think so," he says. "Lestrange, maybe, but I think the thing Robards is looking for is some sort of object."

"I don't know why Lestrange would want this list, anyway," I point out. "It can hardly be news to him that Gordon Greengrass and Samuel Flint are former Death Eaters."

"Former?" Ron says. "That's not what this list is, Hermione. It's a list of _current_ Death Eaters, if you ask me! Why else would Malfoy have had it?"

Oh dear. "We don't know for sure if it was Malfoy who put it in that book," I argue, but neither one of them is listening to me.

"Do you think we ought to give it to Robards?" Ron's asking.

Harry shakes his head. "Not yet," he says. "Like Hermione said, it's hardly going to be news to him, is it?"

I said that about Lestrange, not Robards, but I suppose Harry's got a point. "Supposing this is Malfoy's," I say, thinking aloud. "Someone must have given it to him before he took that job in the Broom Regulatory Control Office. You know, a list of all of the people in the Ministry who are - are - "

"Death Eaters," Ron finishes for me. "Bet you anything that's why he took that job in the first place."

Harry picks up the parchment again, scrutinizing it. "Are they all Ministry workers?" he asks. "Pucey is - he's something in Magical Law Enforcement."

"Flint's in Magical Records," I say, remembering. "I saw his name on one of the office doors last time I was down there. And goodness - Persephone Burke is the head of the Centaur Liaison Office!"

Ron smirks. "She must have a lot of free time, then," he says.

Harry and I both look blankly at him, not getting it.

"Centaurs don't _want_ to liaise with humans," Ron explains. "It's a bit of a joke, that job. Dad always reckoned it was how the Ministry got rid of people they didn't know what to do with."

I wonder how Draco Malfoy's been contacting these people. I've only ever seen him in Magical Creatures once, and that was when he delivered that fake letter to Damaris. Only her name's not on the list, so…

"Harry, let me see that!" I say, grabbing it back. "These spaces - that's what it means!"

Ron and Harry exchange blank looks.

"Once he's made contact with the person, his or name vanishes from the list," I explain. "I'll bet Damaris Gamp was right here!" I point to the empty space at the top of the page.

"So in addition to tailing Malfoy," Harry says after a minute, "I guess I'd better keep an eye on Adrian Pucey, because his name's the next one."

"You're tailing Malfoy?" Ron asks eagerly.

Harry glances at his watch. "Yeah, and I'd better go," he says. "He's been holed up with his girlfriend all afternoon, but it's getting on toward dinner time. I don't want to miss him."

"I've got to go, too," Ron says, kissing me and following Harry to the door. "I never did get that file you wanted."

Harry's got the door open already, but he turns and looks back over his shoulder at us. "What file?" he asks. "Not one from the Records Room?"

"Yeah, Damaris's," Ron explains. "If she's got one - which I reckon she probably does. Persimmon said - "

"You can't take those files out of the Auror Office," Harry interrupts. "Didn't anyone tell you?"

"Why the hell can't I?" Ron asks. "I can't bring Hermione in there when she's supposed to be ill at home - someone from Magical Creatures might see her."

"You can't bring Hermione in there, anyway," Harry tells him. "She's not an Auror."

"These bloody rules are ridiculous," Ron says, annoyed.

"Agreed," Harry says. "But there's nothing you can do about it - unless you want to take it up with Robards." He looks at his watch again. "I've got to go," he says, and does.

Ron and I look helplessly at each other. "Well, you can read through Damaris's file and tell me what it says," I say finally, although I'd really like to get a look at it myself.

Ron grins at me. "Or," he says softly, "I could just borrow your beaded bag."

I hesitate, tempted. "Suppose someone sees you?" I say.

"They won't," Ron says confidently. "Anyway, we're not going to do anything to it. We just want a look, that's all. You know it's a stupid rule, Hermione."

I know it's wrong, but… "All right," I say. I start to pick up the list and then stop, holding it out to him. "You might take this with you," I suggest. "I'd like to know if all of these people really do work for the Ministry, and which Departments they're in."

"I'm not taking that list anywhere," Ron says firmly. "It might be important, and I don't want to be the one that loses it. I can remember the names."

He can't, either. "I'll copy them out for you," I say.

"I'll copy it," Ron says, taking the list from me. "You go and get the beaded bag."

He's just finishing when I return with the bag. "Definitely seen better days, hasn't it?" Ron says, examining a scorch mark on the side. "I don't reckon you'll be carrying it to any more weddings."

"It still works, that's the main thing," I say, watching as he shoves the bag unceremoniously into a pocket. "What do you think I ought to do with the original list?"

Ron considers. "Stick it back in _Fantastic Beasts_," he suggests. "It's been all right there for the last few months, hasn't it?"

**Draco**

"Where are you going?" Clarissa mumbles sleepily.

"Just home for a minute," I say, looking for my other shoe. "I want to make sure this fog business has been taken care of."

"That's sweet of you, looking after your mum like that," Clarissa says approvingly. She props herself up on one elbow. "There's your shoe under the bed."

"_Accio_ shoe," I say. It's got nothing to do with Mother, but it doesn't hurt anything to let Clarissa think so. "Will you wait for me there? I won't be too long."

"Where, in bed?" Clarissa says, amused. "I thought we could go out for dinner. I'm starving."

I don't want to be seen in public any more than necessary. "Let's have something here," I say quickly. "It's much more romantic. I'll pick up a bottle of wine on my way back." I'll take one from Father's cellar. He'll never miss it.

I'm not sure what I'll find at home, but before I'm halfway down the path I can see that every light in the house is blazing. Looks like they got rid of the fog, then.

Mother and Father are both questioning Lurleen when I open the door. "But I ordered you to watch the house!" Mother's saying crossly.

"I couldn't watch anything, Mistress," Lurleen protests. "I couldn't see my hand in front of my face, it was that foggy. I never dared to leave the kitchen till Master came home and cleared it out."

There. I told you Father could handle it.

"Don't tell me you couldn't hear them!" Mother says.

"I heard something, banging about, but I thought it was the owls," Lurleen says. "Yours and Master Draco's. I thought to open a window for them, but I couldn't find my way in the mist."

"Owls wouldn't make a racket like that," Father says irritably. He mutters something about Lurleen being deaf as well as stupid, but Mother gives him a warning look. She's determined not to lose another housemaid.

"What's going on?" I say.

"Draco, thank goodness you're home, darling!" Mother says dramatically. "I'm afraid we've been robbed!"

Robbed? "What did they take?" I ask. Maybe it wasn't Rodolphus after all - maybe it was just ordinary thieves.

"Nothing," Father says. "But they've made a complete shambles of my study. I expect I frightened them off before they got a chance to grab anything." He looks smugly pleased with himself as he says this.

"They were in your room, too, Draco," Mother says anxiously. "I'm afraid it's rather a mess, but Lurleen can - "

Bloody hell. I Apparate upstairs, not wanting to take the time to walk.

The wardrobe door's standing wide open, and everything's been thrown in a heap on the floor. Drawers have been tipped upside-down; the mattress is slashed in several places; books are scattered everywhere…

It was Rodolphus, all right. Only he couldn't find what I haven't got, could he?

Mother's hurrying down the hall. "I'll have Lurleen put it to rights, darling," she says. "You can stay in one of the guest suites tonight."

The hell with that. "I've got a friend I can stay with," I say, grabbing some random garments from the floor. It's not safe for me to stay here anymore. I'm not worried about Mother and Father - Rodolphus won't bother them once he knows I'm gone.

_And what about Clarissa?_ I ask myself as I hurry back down the path. But I don't think she's in any danger. Father will have passed on the information that I think she's a spy - just as I meant him to do - and the word will have got back to Rodolphus by now.

What Father and Rodolphus don't know is that I think I'm in love with her.

**Ron**

"Nothing to it," I say, waving the beaded bag at Hermione. "What did I tell you?"

"You're sure no one saw you?" Hermione asks anxiously, but she's already taking the bag from me and reaching inside.

"It might have been a bit tricky, but luckily someone came looking for Persimmon and she just told me to lock the door behind me when I was finished," I admit.

"What about the list?" Hermione asks, pulling the file out - not without some difficulty; it's rather a thick one - and sitting back down on the sofa with it in her lap.

"That was easy, too," I say. "Persimmon's got a whole chart of everyone who works in the Ministry. She let me borrow it." Okay, I didn't tell her I was bringing it home with me, but surely a chart of workers isn't a deep dark secret? Probably all the secretaries have one. Which reminds me…

"Hey, Hermione," I say. "Know what Persimmon told me? She used to be an Auror herself, and she was one of the ones assigned to bring us to King's Cross fifth year after the holidays. Only I didn't recognize her because she was in disguise then."

Hermione looks up. "She used to be an Auror?" she asks, interested. "What happened?"

"Robards," I explain. "He thinks people's reflexes slow down as they get older, so he makes all of the Aurors retire once they get to be a certain age. Only Persimmon talked him into letting her stay on as secretary, because she reckoned she'd get bored, otherwise."

"Oh," Hermione says, frowning. "Well, I expect some people do get - is she very old, Persimmon?"

"No," I say, thinking about it. "Maybe a few years older than Mum and Dad, but she's definitely younger than Professor McGonagall, and there's nothing wrong with _her_ reflexes."

"I suppose he's got his reasons," Hermione says, but there's a note of doubt in her voice. She opens Damaris's file and starts lifting papers out, spreading them out over the sofa. "I'll look through these if you want to start matching names to that chart," she says.

"I'll build up the fire first," I say, not in any hurry to begin. "It's gotten lots colder out. I wouldn't be surprised if we had snow."

"It won't last, this early in the year," Hermione says, but she glances out the window as she speaks. The clouds have gotten a lot darker than they were earlier.

**Harry**

The lights are on in Clarissa Clarke's flat. I've just settled myself on a wall, expecting a long wait, when Malfoy appears in the doorway. He looks like he's in a hurry. I follow him as far as the Leaky Cauldron, but he Disapparates just outside.

Malfoy Manor or the Ministry? I decide to take a chance.

It turns out I'm right. I arrive just in time to see him striding up the path to the Manor. I wait outside the gate, grateful for Lurleen's presence inside. I watch the white peacocks pacing up and down the wall in an effort to distract myself from the house. I can still hear Hermione screaming when I look at it - and I can still feel Greyback's hot breath on my neck.

Malfoy's not long - twenty minutes at the outside - and he looks upset when he comes out, carrying an armload of clothes. _"Running away from home, Draco?"_ I think snidely.

This time I beat him back to Clarissa's. I think about trying to follow him inside, but it might be difficult to get back out again. Still, I'd love to know what kind of story he's telling her. Some Extendable Ears would definitely come in useful right about now, wouldn't they? Luckily, I'm not far from the joke shop.

Ten minutes later I'm creeping silently up the stairs to Clarissa's flat. I carefully feed the Ears under the door.

"How should I know?" Malfoy's saying carelessly. "We had a house elf that used to cause trouble - maybe he's been hanging about."

_Doubtful, since your Aunt Bellatrix killed him,_ I think, with the stab of pain that always accompanies the thought of Dobby.

"It seems like an odd sort of thing for a house-elf to do," a girl's voice says. "We've got one at home, but she's a sweet old thing. I can't imagine her casting spells against us."

"There was always something a bit off about our old one," Malfoy says. "I think it was defective."

The girl's laughing. "_Defective?_ Draco, you're terrible!" she says. "Well, I'm glad everything's all right. Are you sure you don't want to go out for dinner? There's not much here."

"I don't want to share you with anyone," Malfoy says possessively. There's silence, and I try not to think about what they're probably doing. This is even worse than living with Ron and Hermione.

I decide they won't be going anywhere for a while, and retreat to a doorway across the street, tucking the Ears carefully into my pocket. It's gotten colder out, and I back further into the doorway, trying to keep out of the wind. The shops have all closed, and there's hardly anyone on the street.

It's dark out now, and it's beginning to snow. I wait another two hours, stamping my feet to keep the circulation going. As I watch, the lights go out in Clarissa's flat. That's it for the night, then - unless Malfoy's going to leave now. I slip silently out of the doorway and make my way across the street. The snow's getting heavier, and I nearly slip a few times.

I wait outside the building, but there's silence. Malfoy's evidently decided to spend the night. Right, then - I reckon I can go home.

I'm just turning to leave when I spot them. The footprints are already nearly filled in with snow - another hour and they'd be completely covered up. Someone's been here - pacing up and down, by the looks of things. Evidently I'm not the only one interested in Draco Malfoy's whereabouts tonight.

**Hermione**

"Told you it was going to snow," Ron says, pulling back the curtains to look. "Poor Harry - I'll bet he's not having much fun tonight."

"What?" I say, looking up. Goodness, it really is snowing. I set the file aside and join Ron at the window.

He slips an arm around me, pulling me close. "Anything good?" he asks.

"Sort of," I say, frowning. "Damaris hasn't actually done anything illegal herself - at least, not that anyone's caught - but she's definitely been involved with all sorts of awful people. Did you know she was engaged to one of the Averys?"

"Bit old for her, wasn't he?" Ron says, still looking at the snow.

"Not _that_ one," I say. "His nephew or something. Only she broke it off - the file doesn't say why." I suppose it doesn't matter - Damaris could just say she'd broken up with him when she found out he was a Death Eater, couldn't she? I'm silent for a minute, trying to put into words what I'm thinking. "She's there, all the time," I say finally. "Only she's on the sidelines - she's not part of the action. But…" My voice trails off.

"I finished that chart thing," Ron says after a minute. "You were right - every one of them works for the Ministry. They've got someone in almost every Department, looks like."

I can't help shuddering, and Ron pulls me a bit closer. "It's going to be all right, Hermione," he says. "People will listen to us this time. We're not kids anymore."

"We don't have any proof of anything," I remind him. "This is just a list of names."

"We'll get proof," Ron says confidently. "Now that we know who to watch."

"We don't know all of them," I say, pulling away restlessly and picking up the list he's made. "I wish we knew what those missing names were."

"I thought of that," Ron says. "I reckon the missing names come from Departments that aren't already represented by people on the list. They'd want to spread 'em out, wouldn't they?"

I pick up Persimmon's chart and set it next to the list. "Magical Transportation's not on here," I say after a minute.

"No, but Malfoy's got that one covered," Ron says. "Magical Creatures isn't there, either - unless you count that Persephone Burke woman in the Centaur Liaison Office. Or else it's Damaris, like you said."

"There's no one from the Auror Office, either," I counter.

Ron looks startled. "No one from the Aurors is a Death Eater," he says, but a flicker of doubt crosses his face. "What about Muggle Relations?" he adds hastily. "No, here she is - who the hell is Evelinda Snodgrass?"

I shrug. "You'd better check the files on some of these other people, too," I say.

"I can't smuggle them all home," Ron warns me. "It's going to be tricky enough getting this one back."

"You got it, then," Harry's voice says from the doorway. "How'd you manage it?"

Ron waves the beaded bag at him triumphantly, and Harry grins. "I wondered where that thing had gotten to," he says. "Bit the worse for wear, isn't it?"

"It still works," I say again.

Harry comes into the room. He's in his stocking feet; that's why we didn't hear him. "My shoes were soaked through," he says, seeing me looking. "I left them in the hall."

"How'd it go, anyway?" Ron asks, gathering up the papers and shoving them carelessly into the file folder.

Harry shrugs, moving to stand closer to the fire. "Malfoy's evidently spending the night with his girlfriend," he says. "And - " he hesitates, and then decides to continue. "And I wasn't the only one watching him."

Ron and I look at each other. "You weren't?" I ask carefully.

"No," Harry says, staring into the fire. He's silent for a moment and then bursts out, "This is all wrong, us keeping secrets from each other. I hate it."

"Look, mate," Ron says. "I know you gave your word to Robards not to tell. But he never said anything about us _guessing_, did he? You don't have to say a single word - just nod your head if we get something right."

"Ron, that's not honest," I say uneasily, but I want to know as badly as he does. Harry's right - we can't keep secrets from each other if we're going to work this thing out properly.

"Why isn't it?" Ron argues. "Look, I'm not blaming Robards. He doesn't understand how it is with the three of us, that's all. Go on, Harry - what do you say?"

"All right," Harry says abruptly. He turns from the fire and sits down, facing us. "I reckon the first thing you ought to _guess_ about is where I might have gone with Robards on my first night as an Auror."

**Draco**

"We're going to be late," Clarissa reminds me at last, pulling away from me to look at her watch.

"Who cares?" I say. "Edgecombe's probably still ill - if that's where she was yesterday."

"Maybe she's got a secret lover," Clarissa says, giggling. She evades me as I reach for her again. "Draco, we've got to go," she says sternly. "Now, what did I do with my cloak?"

We're ready at last, bundled up against the cold. I hate winter. I'd like to live someplace where it never snowed at all - the tropics, maybe. "My gloves," Clarissa remembers, turning back. "I'll just be a minute - go on ahead of me and I'll catch up."

I start down the outside staircase to the street. Just as I reach the bottom, I see something falling from out of the corner of my eye. I jump aside just in time to avoid a heavy clump of snow.

"What the hell?" I say, staring at the sidewalk.

Clarissa's hurrying down the stairs to me, her face as white as the snow that's just fallen. "Darling, are you all right?" she calls anxiously.

"I very nearly wasn't," I say, bending to examine a huge chunk of ice. "That bloody thing fell off the roof or somewhere just as I reached the street. Another inch or so to the left and it would've landed on my head."

Clarissa shivers and reaches for my hand. "It might have killed you," she whispers. "That icicle's as big around as a man's arm."

"Well, it didn't," I say, speaking firmly so she won't see that I'm still a bit shaken up. "But I think we'd better clear the rest of the ice off, just in case. We don't want any accidents." I point my wand toward the roof, trying to see where the ice came from.

"It looks like it was the only one," Clarissa says, following my gaze. "All the rest is just snow. Funny, isn't it? I don't see any other ice at all."

"Maybe it was warmer in one spot," I say, shrugging. "From the chimney or something. Anyway, we'd better go. We're late enough as it is."

"I thought you didn't care," Clarissa says, but she comes along willingly enough, tucking her arm into mine.

I'm hurrying now - not because I care about being late, but because I don't want Clarissa to notice the obvious flaw in my theory. The chimney's on the other side of the roof - nowhere near the stairs. I think of Rodolphus again and feel a chill that has nothing to do with the cold air. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Draco**

"Why don't you ever want to go anywhere?" Clarissa asks. "And don't say it's because you want to be alone with me. I like being alone with you, too, but I'm sick of just staying in this flat all the time!"

"Er," I say. I knew this was going to come up sooner or later. I've done a pretty good job of dodging the question for the past few weeks, but it looks like Clarissa's had enough.

"It's because of who I am, isn't it?" Clarissa says in a different voice. "You don't want any of your father's friends to see you with a blood traitor."

"That's not it at all," I protest. Father already knows I'm seeing her, in any case.

"Then what is it?" Clarissa demands, and I can't answer. It's not like I can tell her the truth, is it? If she knew everything, she'd never talk to me again.

Clarissa looks at me searchingly and then turns away with a sigh. "I think I'd like to be on my own tonight," she says quietly. "I'll see you tomorrow, Draco."

"You're not breaking up with me, are you?" I ask uneasily.

"No," Clarissa says after a long silence. "Not entirely. I just think - well, maybe we could both do with a bit of space."

_I_ couldn't - and I've nowhere else to go, unless I go back to the Manor - but I can't think of anything to do except leave.

I wander aimlessly through Diagon Alley, keeping a sharp eye out for Rodolphus and anybody that might be working with him. The red-haired man peering into a shop window just ahead of me looks familiar, and my heart stops for a moment before I recognize Weasley and relax. I glance up at the sign - a jeweler's shop - and smirk to myself. None of the Weasleys could afford anything in there, not even if they took out a mortgage on that hovel they live in.

Wait a minute. Maybe I could tell Weasley. He's an Auror now; he's got to protect me, doesn't he? For some reason, I hate him slightly less than I hate Potter and Granger - maybe because he had the guts to take on Greyback; maybe because he's a pureblood. (Even if he _is_ a blood traitor. But so's Clarissa…)

Weasley sees my reflection in the shop window and turns abruptly. The hostility in his eyes takes me aback.

"Picking out a Christmas present for the Mudblood?" I say before I can stop myself.

A second later, I'm picking myself up off the ground.

"I told you not to call her that," Weasley says coldly, and turns his back on me. I watch from the sidewalk as he walks away.

There's no one left, then. No one except Clarissa. I turn slowly and head back down the street to her flat.

"We need to talk," I say when she opens the door.

Clarissa nods silently and steps aside to let me in. She gasps when she sees my face. "Draco, you're bleeding! What happened?"

"I - er - slipped and fell," I say evasively. I'll be damned if I tell her Weasley knocked me down.

"Put this on it," Clarissa says, wrapping a piece of ice in a towel.

"Thanks," I say, taking it. "Clarissa, what you said about not wanting to be seen with you - " I pause as her words from earlier finally sink in. "You already knew who Father's friends are," I say.

"Of course I do," Clarissa says sharply. "Do you think I'm a fool? I know exactly who he is - and who you are."

"Did you always know?" I ask, confused.

"No," Clarissa admits. "Not until after we'd been out to dinner the first time. H - one of the other people in the office took me aside - to warn me, he said."

I'll bet it was that little git Hobart. "You never said," I say. "Why not, Clarissa?"

"Because I wanted _you_ to tell me," Clarissa answers. "I wanted you to trust me."

"I do," I protest. This isn't going well at all, is it?

"Then prove it," Clarissa says. She sits down across from me, looking at me challengingly. "Don't you think it's time you told me what's been going on, Draco?"

And I haven't any other choices, or any place else left to turn - so I tell her. Everything.

**Harry**

Malfoy's girlfriend throwing him out is the most interesting thing that's happened to him in weeks, if you ask me. I've been shadowing him day and night, but he and Clarissa never go anywhere except to the Ministry and back to Clarissa's flat. Malfoy's developed a habit of looking sharply at the roof before he enters or exits the building, but the attempt on his life hasn't been repeated. I'm beginning to think it was just a warning. In any case, Malfoy never sets foot outside unless he has to. I was wondering when Clarissa was going to get fed up with it - and it appears that the time has come.

Malfoy heads down Diagon Alley, and I follow at a short distance. I'm not close enough to hear what he says to Ron, but there's no missing Ron's response. I'm trying so hard not to laugh that I nearly blow my cover.

Malfoy, to my surprise, heads directly back to Clarissa's flat. I can't help wondering what the hell he's going to tell her. Maybe he'll make up a story about getting mugged in order to gain sympathy.

I'm nearly as stunned as Clarissa is when he tells her the truth.

**Ron**

"About time you showed up," George starts, and then he takes a closer look at me. "What happened to your hand?"

"I knocked Malfoy down in the street," I say.

"Nice one," George says approvingly. "Any particular reason, or was he just in your way?"

"He called Hermione a Mudblood," I say. "Have you got anything I can put on this hand? I don't want her to know." I'll have to get to Harry before he sees her - I'd forgotten, but he probably watched the whole thing from under his Invisibility Cloak.

George opens a drawer and pulls out a square tub. "This stuff'll do it," he says. "Just ask Hermione - oh, better not. When you've finished you can help me with the front window. I want to get my Christmas display up."

"Christmas isn't for ages yet," I protest, rubbing the thick yellow paste over my bruised knuckles.

"It's in three and a half weeks," George says. "That's practically tomorrow in the retail business."

Three and a half weeks… I'll never be able to afford a ring for Hermione in time.

"Just let her pick one out and you can put a deposit down on it," George suggests, glancing at my expression and guessing what's wrong. "It's better than nothing."

I guess he's right, but I wanted her to be wearing it when we told everyone. "Rings are just so bloody expensive," I complain, following him into the back room. Even a little tiny diamond like Perdita's costs a lot more than forty-three Galleons - which is all I've managed to save.

George is already opening boxes. "Here he is," he says, pulling a huge Father Christmas figure out of a crate. "We can have him pulling a sled full of Skiving Snackboxes."

"Does he move?" I ask. "You could put one of those Headless Charms on his hat and have him take it on and off in the window."

"Brilliant," George says. "You're really beginning to get a knack for the business." He looks at me appraisingly. "How'd you like to do the whole window on your own? I've got loads of accounts I need to go through."

"It'll cost you an extra five Galleons," I say. That'll bring me up to forty-eight, anyway.

The window takes longer than I'd thought, but I'm pleased with the result. "Come have a look," I call to George.

George examines the window for several minutes, even going outside so he can see it from the street. "It looks good," he says, coming back in. "Let's see - we said three Galleons, didn't we?"

"Nice try," I say. "It was five, and you know it. How long are you going to leave my window up?"

"Till New Year's," George says, pulling out his moneybag.

That reminds me. "You're going to the opening of Seamus's club on New Year's Eve with us, aren't you?" I ask.

George looks away. "I don't think so," he says quietly.

"Ah, come on, George," I say. "It'll be fun."

"Maybe for you," George says. "I'm not ready for that sort of crowd yet. And anyway, I haven't got a date."

I remember what Hermione said. "You could bring Verity," I suggest. "Hermione thinks she likes you."

"She _did_ like me," George says. "But I think she's over it. She's dating the assistant manager from Flourish and Blott's."

"I hate that bloke," I say, annoyed at the thought of him. "He tries to flirt with Hermione every time we go in there. Why don't you ask Verity anyway?"

George shakes his head. "Not a good idea, dating the help," he says. "Anyway, I'm not fit company for any girl these days."

"Well, come with me and Hermione, then," I say, out of ideas.

"I'll think about it," George says, but I'm pretty sure he's just saying it to shut me up.

Hermione's waiting for me when I get home. "You must be exhausted," she says, kissing me and taking my cloak. "Ron, I think it's really sweet of you to help George out like this, but don't you think it's time he found someone else? You can't keep on like this forever. And he must be making plenty of money - I'm sure he could afford to hire someone to help him."

Hermione doesn't exactly know the whole story behind me helping George. "I'm all right," I say quickly. "Just starving, that's all."

"I told Kreacher I'd wait and eat with you," Hermione says. "He's going to bring us a tray in the sitting room - I thought it'd be more comfortable."

I follow her in and sink down on the sofa with a sigh of relief. "I did the whole front window on my own," I tell her. "I don't think George is too into Christmas this year."

"No, I suppose not," Hermione says understandingly. "You know, I've been thinking about Christmas presents, and - oh, thank you, Kreacher. You can put it over there."

"You can bring it right here," I correct, reaching for the tray. "Thanks, Kreacher." I turn back to Hermione. "What were you saying about presents?" I ask. "I haven't got much to spend on them, I know that much."

"I haven't, either," Hermione says. "Maybe I could knit things for people."

Like what, house-elf hats? She's crap at knitting, but I don't like to say so in case she gets mad. "Mum always knits," I say quickly. "It's sort of her thing. Look, I don't see why we couldn't give presents together, do you? We're engaged, after all."

"That would definitely help," Hermione says, looking relieved. "I can do the shopping while you're helping George on Saturday. Do you think Harry would like a personal organizer?"

"No," I say. "Why don't you let me handle Harry's present, and you take care of the rest." I wonder briefly what Harry's getting for Ginny. Probably a Firebolt and a diamond necklace.

"And you needn't get anything for me," Hermione's saying, but I shake my head.

"Your present's the most important," I tell her firmly. "And I want one from you, too."

Hermione smiles sideways at me. "All right," she says.

"_Not_ a personal organizer," I add quickly. I'll never forget the time she got me a homework planner.

We're about to go up to bed when Harry comes in. "Malfoy in for the night?" I ask, warning him with a glance not to say anything in front of Hermione about anything he might have seen in Diagon Alley.

Harry grins at me. "He's _down_, all right," he says, letting me know he's got the message. "And wait'll you hear this. He finally decided to tell Clarissa what's been going on - and it's even more than we thought."

**Hermione**

We all overslept this morning - no wonder; we were up till nearly dawn talking - and as a result, I'm late for work. I suppose it doesn't really matter since no one's ever around except Miranda.

She holds up a warning hand as I start to hurry past her. "_She's_ in there," she whispers. "And Diggory's with her."

Of all mornings. Why did I stay up so late last night? I'm more convinced than ever that the list I found is what Rodolphus is trying to get back, but Harry and Ron are both positive it's something else. We argued about it for hours.

"They think you're in Magical Records doing some research," Miranda's saying. "Here, you'd better bring a few rolls of parchment in with you to make it look convincing. And leave your cloak with me - I'll hide it under my desk till they leave."

"Thanks, Miranda," I say gratefully, exchanging my cloak for the parchment rolls. "Do you know what Diggory wants?"

Miranda shakes her head. "No, but he asked for you particularly," she says.

"I'd better go in, then," I say anxiously.

Miranda grins at me as I go. "Glad you're not _ill_ again," she says teasingly. "I was beginning to worry."

Oh dear. She still doesn't believe my story of illness from a few weeks ago - my fault for telling her that Ron and I had a romantic weekend planned. But I can't tell her the truth, so there's nothing to do but let her believe what she will. The funny thing is, I feel as though she almost likes me better for it. I manage a weak smile in return and push open the door to the House-Elf Relocation Office.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Amos Diggory says. "We've been waiting for you."

Damaris, busy inspecting her nail varnish, doesn't bother to look up.

"I had a bit of research to do," I say, hastily stuffing the parchment rolls in a desk drawer. I hope Diggory doesn't ask to see them, since they're almost certainly blank.

He doesn't, though. "I recently took the opportunity to have the rules governing the allocation of house-elves printed and bound," he says. "There's a copy here for each of you."

"Terribly sweet of you, Amos," Damaris says languidly. "I'm so familiar with our ways that I never thought how difficult it would be for someone new to understand. But it's just as well to have it all in black and white, isn't it?" She flashes me a smile that's pure malice.

Without speaking, I pick up one of the manuals and leaf through it. Diggory's watching me, but Damaris has gone back to her manicure.

It's even worse than I thought. House-elves are only to be "allocated" to pureblood families. House-elves who have been given clothes are under no circumstances to be assisted by this Office. House-elves who…

"This manual must be missing a section," I say, looking up. "There's nothing in here about the proper treatment of house-elves."

Diggory looks startled, and even Damaris spares me a brief glance.

"What?" Diggory says, rather inadequately.

"Treatment," I say again. "How do we ensure that the house-elves we - er - allocate through this Office are going to homes where they'll be kindly treated?"

Diggory appears at a loss for words. "That is not our responsibility," he says stiffly.

"Well, it certainly ought to be," I say furiously. "They're coming to us for _help_. The least we can do is make sure they're not being put into situations where they'll be abused."

Diggory and Damaris exchange an incredulous look. "My dear Miss Granger," Diggory says, after a moment's silent struggle. "They're not human, you know. House-elves are here to be our servants - no more, no less. Naturally, we're not condoning abuse, but - "

"But we're not doing anything to stop it, either!" I say.

"Amos is right," Damaris cuts in. She leans over, speaking directly to me. "They like waiting on humans. It's what they do."

"I know," I say wearily. "But - "

Damaris turns to Diggory. "This is what comes of hiring Muggle-borns," she says. "They simply don't understand."

"Now, Damaris," Diggory says chidingly, but I can tell he agrees with her. "You just read through that manual, Miss Granger!" he says to me hastily. "I'm sure it'll answer any remaining questions that you might have. And remember - these laws were created by wizards and witches who understood far more about the house-elf population than you do."

He sees my mouth open and backs hastily out of the office. "Now, I'm sure there won't be any more difficulties," he says, and disappears.

I'm glad he thinks so. I intend to be very difficult indeed about this.

Danmaris is gathering her things together, even though it's only mid-morning. "There's a house-elf coming in this afternoon," she says coldly. "I've already promised him to my great-aunt. As Amos didn't have any objections, I assume you won't either."

There's nothing I can say, and she knows it. "This is my aunt's name and address," Damaris says, taking my silence for consent. "When the elf gets here, you can send him on to her."

She expects me to do it for her? _Honestly._ "What's the elf's name?" I manage to say, through gritted teeth.

"How should I know?" Damaris says carelessly. "I expect it's in the file." She drops a folder onto my desk and sweeps out. I wait till I'm sure she's gone before telling the empty office exactly what I think of her.

"Such language, Hermione," Miranda says, popping in a few minutes later. "And don't try to blame it on your boyfriend this time."

"The word Ron calls her is much worse," I say. "Miranda, this manual they've given me - isn't there any way around it?"

"I shouldn't think so," Miranda says sympathetically. "Laws are laws, after all. Mind, I'm not saying some of them probably aren't a bit outdated, but I expect the Wizengamut's got enough to deal with these days without troubling themselves about house-elves."

I wait till she's gone to open the file folder. The elf - Balto, his name is - belonged to an elderly witch and wizard, both of whom recently died. The file doesn't mention his age, but he must be nearly as old as they were. I hope Damaris's great-aunt isn't too demanding - but if she's anything like her niece, poor Balto is in for a rough time.

**Harry**

I wait until Malfoy and Clarissa are both safely inside the Broom Regulatory Control Office before slipping off the Invisibility Cloak and heading to the lift. I hope Robards is in - for the first time in weeks, I've actually got something interesting to report.

He's there - and for once, he lets me speak without interruption. "Tell me the part about him losing something again," he says, once I've finished. "You're sure he didn't say what it was?"

"No," I say. "He just said Rodolphus had given him something, and he'd lost it - and now he was in trouble."

Robards nods slowly, and I wonder if he's thinking that the "something" that Malfoy lost could be the same mysterious item he's been searching for. I've almost gotten up the courage to ask when he speaks again.

"Did the girl completely understand what he was telling her?" he asks. "It seems rather strange to me that she would willingly stay with him after such a revelation."

"Clarissa's in love with him," I explain. It's sort of embarrassing to be talking about love to Robards, but I make myself go on. "It's what you do if you're in love with someone, isn't it?"

Robards raises an eyebrow, but fortunately decides not to comment. "Then she is in danger," he says. "They'll try to get to him through her."

I nod. "He's thought of that," I say. "They're going to run away together."

Robards looks appalled. "Surely he doesn't think he can hide from them on his own," he says in disbelief. "Perhaps with the help of the Aurors, but - Mr. Potter, is it your opinion that young Malfoy would be willing to provide us with some information in exchange for protection?"

I can't help feeling flattered that Robards is actually asking my opinion on something. I take my time answering. "Yeah, I think he might," I say finally. "But we'll probably have to promise he won't be prosecuted as well."

"Damn the Malfoys," Robards says, looking annoyed. "Am I never going to be able to get even _one_ of them on anything? Very well, Mr. Potter. I'll have someone approach him."

"Let me do it," I say, but Robards is already shaking his head before I've finished speaking.

"Your enthusiasm is commendable, Mr. Potter, but this is a very delicate negotiation," he says. "An experienced Auror will make the deal."

"I might not know much about negotiating, but I know Draco Malfoy," I argue. "If you send an Auror in, he's going to panic. He might hate me, but he's not afraid of me. I think he'd listen to what I had to say."

"No," Robards says firmly. "You could endanger the whole operation."

I wouldn't - but there's no use arguing with him when he's got his mind made up like this. "When will you do it?" I ask.

"It will take at least a few hours to set things up," Robards says. "In the meantime, you will continue to shadow Mr. Malfoy."

There's still something bothering me. "Those footprints," I say. "And the block of ice…"

Robards shrugs. "Most likely Rodolphus - or one of his cohorts - was responsible for both," he says. "There has been no repetition of the situation, has there?"

"No," I admit. I still feel like there's something we're missing - Rodolphus Lestrange doesn't sound like the sort who'd just back off - but there's nothing we can do about it except wait and hope he doesn't strike again before we can get Malfoy and Clarissa into hiding.

**Rodolphus**

"He must carry it with him," I say. "It's the only explanation. It was nowhere in Malfoy Manor, and he hasn't hidden it in the girl's flat, either - I've searched it twice now."

She frowns. "You're sure he doesn't know what it is?"

"Impossible," I say. "But he knows it's valuable to us. He's using it to hold over my head, that's all."

"There's only one thing to be done, then," she says. "See that you don't fail this time, Rodolphus. Mistakes aren't easily forgiven, as you know."

"It's not as easy as you seem to think, arranging accidents," I point out irritably.

"There's nothing to it," she says scornfully. "I can think of dozens of ways to do it. Are you losing your nerve, Rodolphus?"

"No," I say hastily. "I have a plan in mind." Most unfortunately, it's going to have to involve Muggles, but there's no fear of them seeing _me_. They'll only see what I want them to.

Her eyes are skeptical as she turns to leave. "See that you do it today, then," she says. "And if you don't, I will."

**Ron**

I'm relieved to see Hermione when she finally shows up in the Ministry Café. I've got about a hundred things I need to ask her - plus I'm starving and she hates it when I start without her. "There you are," I say. "What kept you?"

Hermione drops into the chair next to me without answering. I take a closer look and realize she looks like her morning hasn't gone any better than mine. "What's wrong?" I ask, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Damaris again?"

"And Amos Diggory," Hermione says in a low voice. "He's given us manuals about proper Departmental procedures for handling house-elves, and it's simply awful. I don't know who wrote the laws, but they ought to be ashamed of themselves."

Whoever wrote the laws has probably been dead for hundreds of years, but now's probably not a good time to point that out. "Maybe they'll change the rules," I say instead. "You might have a word with Kingsley about it."

"I can't bother Kingsley with this," Hermione says. "Miranda as much as said the Wizangamut's got far too much going on right now to think about house-elves."

Miranda probably has a point there. "When things settle down, then," I say soothingly. "Tell you what, Hermione - why don't you rewrite that manual the way you think things ought to be? I reckon you might get _somebody_ to look at it." Eventually.

Hermione's face brightens. "That's exactly what I'm going to do," she says happily. "I'm going to get started right after lunch."

I guess it's safe to eat now. "Good," I say, reaching for a sandwich. "Don't forget you're supposed to be checking on Persephone Burke, too."

"I looked before I left for lunch," Hermione answers. "She wasn't in - she's never been there yet. I've been carrying her Department badge around for weeks now, waiting to give it to her."

"Well, it makes a good excuse," I say. "I haven't had any luck with Adrian Pucey, either. He's in his office all right, but he never seems to leave it."

"Is that what you've been doing all morning?" Hermione asks, finally starting to eat.

"No, something much worse," I tell her. "Perdita had to go and help Hestia re-interview Marietta Edgecombe, so she told Robards to give me something to work on. And he's got me making _Potions_!"

Hermione smiles for the first time. "Sorry," she says quickly. "But the look on your face… why on earth are you making Potions?"

Nice that I can cheer her up, anyway. "Because the Aurors keep their own supply so we can be sure no one's gotten to it," I explain. "It's a good idea, really - only I think we'd be better off with something that's been tampered with than we would with anything _I_ brew up."

"You're not that bad," Hermione protests, but she looks worried. "How's it going?"

"Er - not very well," I admit. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"A _few_?" Hermione says, staring at the huge roll of parchment I'm spreading out on the table.

"Let's start with Confusing Concoction," I say quickly. "Is it supposed to explode?"

**Draco**

I wanted to leave right away, but Clarissa thought we ought to play it cool for a day or two.

"They're expecting us to run," she said last night. "We have to act as normally as possible. We'll go to work tomorrow, just like always. And we ought to have a plan - we can't just _go_ and expect things to fall into place."

"You're amazing," I'd said gratefully. "I thought you'd throw me out when you knew the whole story."

Clarissa had looked away for a minute. "I ought to, I suppose," she'd said, after a silence. "But unfortunately for me, I happen to love you."

"I love you, too, Clarissa," I said quickly. "And I'll change, I swear - I already _have_ changed."

Clarissa had eyed me skeptically. "Have you?" she asked. "Or are you just afraid of them now?"

I didn't answer - I couldn't. Part of what she said is true - I _am_ afraid of them. But I didn't want to come back to them in the first place - it was Rodolphus who forced me into it. Part of me still believes in the things the Death Eaters stood for - but the old Draco Malfoy would never have fallen in love with a blood traitor.

"I didn't mean for it to happen like this," I said finally. "I'd never have gotten involved with you if I'd known it was going to put you in danger."

"Bit late for that now," Clarissa had said briskly. "Now, I think we'd better make some plans. I've got a friend from Beauxbatons who might be willing to help us out - "

"No," I'd said at once. "I don't want anyone else to know. We've got to do this on our own."

Clarissa had argued, but she'd eventually seen my point. We went to sleep with nothing resolved except that we'd talk about it again in the morning. And now we're in the bloody Broom Regulatory Control Office, and she hasn't looked up even once from the manual she's correcting…

Hobart elbows me sharply. "Your mind is wandering, Draco," he says disapprovingly. "You've been staring at the same page for twenty minutes."

"I've got to get out of here," I mutter to Clarissa at lunch time. "Let's just go around the corner to that French place - it'll be safe enough, won't it?"

Clarissa considers. "I think so," she says. "It's only a few minutes away - and there are plenty of Muggles on the street, after all. I don't think they'd attack you in front of them."

It feels good to get outside. The sun's shining and there's no wind, but it's still too cold for my taste. "Wherever we end up going, let's make sure it's summer there," I'm just whispering to Clarissa, when I feel something shove me hard in between my shoulder blades. Clarissa grabs my arm as I struggle to keep my footing, but I'm falling over the curb and one of those huge red Muggle buses is heading straight for me…

"Careful, there lad!" someone's saying, and I feel a rough hand drag me back to safety. I blink dizzily and see a huge Muggle man in a rough overcoat staring at me anxiously. "All right, there?" he asks. Beyond him I can see Clarissa, white-faced and shaking.

"I'm all right," I manage. "Thanks."

"Thought you'd nearly had it there," the Muggle says cheerfully. "You want to watch your step in them boots of yours - there's still plenty of icy bits on the sidewalks." He pats me on the shoulder and walks off without a backward look.

I look down at my boots - they're the best dragon-hide; I never slip in them - and then at the sidewalk. There's no ice on it. But I already knew there wouldn't be.

Clarissa's clutching at me. "Are you all right?" she asks. "Goodness, that bus was so close! What happened - was it the ice?"

"No," I say shortly, dragging her around the corner and into a nearby alley. "Clarissa, someone pushed me. I felt his hand on my back."

She stares at me. "But no one was near us," she protests.

"I felt it, I tell you," I say irritably. "I'm sure it was Rodolphus - he probably used a Disillusionment Charm." I lean against the wall of the alley, suddenly feeling sick. "It would've looked like an accident," I whisper. "Everyone would have thought I slipped - even you thought I'd slipped…"

Clarissa takes charge. "This changes everything," she says briskly. "I think we'd better leave at once."

**Harry**

The Broom Regulatory Control Office is deserted when I get there. I look at my watch and realize everyone must be at lunch. Well, Malfoy and Clarissa will be in the Ministry Café, then. They never go anywhere else, and they always sit alone at that small table in the corner.

Only they aren't there today. I look around wildly and finally spot Ron and Hermione. "Were Malfoy and Clarissa in here?"

Hermione shakes her head, not looking up from the piece of parchment she's writing on. "Nope," Ron answers. "And I would've seen them - I was watching the door for Hermione."

"Maybe they've gone out for lunch," Hermione offers, finally setting her quill down. She pushes the parchment in Ron's direction. "There. Do everything exactly as I've written, and you ought to be able to manage the rest of it - but I think you'd better start over again with that Confusing Concoction."

"You're amazing," Ron says gratefully. He leans in to kiss her.

"There's no time for snogging!" I say impatiently. "They can't have gone out - they never do."

"There's _always_ time for snogging," Ron informs me. "But we'll help you look for them. Come on, Hermione - we can check that restaurant around the corner."

"Thanks," I say, feeling a bit better. Hermione's probably right, but there's still something nagging at me. "I'll go over to the Leaky Cauldron and see if Hannah's seen them come through. Lots of people from the Ministry eat there."

"You've just missed them," Hannah says a few minutes later. "They didn't stop to eat, though - they just went through to Diagon Alley." She makes a face. "Since when do _you_ want to catch up with Draco Malfoy?"

"Auror business," I say briefly, and Hannah nods, satisfied.

"Good luck," she says in a low voice as I go.

I put on the Invisibility Cloak in a convenient alley as soon as I'm through - and it's a good thing, because Malfoy and Clarissa are around the next corner. I get as close as I dare, listening.

"You can be getting the money while I fetch our things from the flat," Clarissa's saying in a low voice. "It'll be quicker that way."

Bloody hell. They're going to make a run for it. I duck back into the alley and send off a quick Patronus. Robards' answer comes back right away. "Do not let him out of your sight," he says. "I'm on my way."

Malfoy and Clarissa are just separating as I return. "Be careful," he's saying anxiously, and she nods soberly.

"I love you," she tells him, and I have to turn away for a second.

Malfoy and I both watch as Clarissa starts up the stairs to the flat. I think the thought occurs to both of us at exactly the same moment.

"Clarissa, no! _Stop_!" Malfoy's shouting, but it's already too late. The explosion knocks both of us off our feet. I look up just in time to see the flat going up in flames.

**Draco**

Strong arms are holding me back and I can't get to her. "You can't go in there, Draco," someone says, almost kindly, and I realize with shock that it's Potter.

"Clarissa," I say incoherently, and he nods understandingly.

"I know," he says quietly. "But it's too late, Draco. It was too late the moment she went in there."

"We were going to get married," I say, and in the back of my mind I wonder why I feel the need to say this to Potter of all people - surely he doesn't care - and yet he's still nodding sympathetically as though he does.

"I'm sorry," he says.

I pull away from him, and he lets me this time, watching as I take a few uncertain steps closer to the burning building. People are coming from all over to see, and I half-notice them pointing at me and whispering. I recognize Gawain Robards and turn away before he sees me. I don't want to be questioned by the Aurors right now. "I'm sorry, Clarissa," I whisper. "It was supposed to be me." 


	17. Chapter 17

**Harry**

"Harry?" Ron says, coming into the sitting room. "Why're you sitting in the dark?"

"I didn't realize," I say, flicking my wand at the lamp. "I was just thinking…" Thinking about Malfoy and Clarissa, and wondering if I could have done something to prevent it from happening.

Ron eyes me, and I can tell he knows what's on my mind. "It wasn't your fault, you know," he says, dropping down on the sofa across from me. "Even Robards didn't see that coming."

"If I'd just talked to Malfoy sooner," I say miserably.

"Robards specifically told you not to," Ron reminds me. "Anyway, even if you had talked to him, the girl might still have gone back to the flat to get their things. You and Malfoy might even have gone with her, and then you'd all be dead."

I know he's right, but it doesn't make me feel any better. The thing is, he didn't know Clarissa, and I did - at least, as well as you can know someone you've never actually met in person - and I liked her. She didn't deserve to die like that.

"Perdita and I took a turn guarding Malfoy's flat today," Ron says. "Nothing happened, though. You'd never even know someone lived in there if there wasn't smoke coming from the chimney."

Malfoy has so far refused to speak to the Aurors, and he won't let us put him into hiding. He's been holed up in a small flat in Knockturn Alley for almost three weeks now - ever since Clarissa's death. He never comes out, and he won't answer the door, but we're watching the place day and night. Sooner or later, Rodolphus is going to make another move.

"I don't see why we can't just arrest him," Ron says restlessly. "I don't fancy hanging about Knockturn Alley. Some witch tried to sell me a jar of fingernails today."

"We can't arrest him when he's done nothing wrong," I say. I look around. "Where's Hermione? Didn't she come in with you?"

"She's upstairs, wrapping presents," Ron says. "No one's allowed in till she's finished. And you owe me one, by the way - you nearly got a personal organizer for Christmas."

I'm not sure what a personal organizer is, but it sounds suspiciously like the adult version of a homework planner. "Thanks," I say. "I haven't done any shopping at all. I haven't been in the mood, somehow. But Ginny'll be home tomorrow - we can go together."

"What're you getting her?" Ron asks.

"Dunno," I admit. "I thought of a broom, but - " I stop in mid-sentence, remembering suddenly that Ron doesn't know Ginny's going to be trying out for the Holyhead Harpies. If she makes the team, she'll get a Firebolt, was what I was about to say. All the Harpies ride them.

"But what?" Ron asks.

"Er, I thought your mum and dad might not like it," I say quickly. "It's sort of a big present, isn't it?" Time to change the subject. "How about you? Have you been able to save enough for a ring yet?"

Ron shakes his head, looking gloomy. "I've only got sixty-five Galleons," he says. "I'll have to do what George said and just put a deposit on one, I reckon."

I hesitate before making the offer. "If you want to borrow - " I start, but Ron's already shaking his head.

"Thanks, but I couldn't do that," he says firmly. "I just wish the Weasleys had an old family heirloom or two, like that ring you gave Ginny."

"Begging your pardon, sirs," Kreacher says from the doorway, making us both jump. "But there's Miss Cedrella's things."

The name doesn't sound familiar. "Cedrella?" I ask.

Kreacher bows in my direction. "Miss Cedrella left all of her possessions behind when she eloped with the blood trait - with Mr. Septimus Weasley, sir," he explains. "Kreacher is sure there was a ring."

Cedrella must be one of the holes on the Black family tree. "How're you related to Septimus Weasley?" I ask Ron.

"He was my grandfather," Ron says, looking surprised. "I thought you knew that, Harry."

It's not the first time Ron's assumed I know some obscure bit of wizarding history that I've never heard before. "I didn't," I say briefly. I turn to Kreacher. "Do you think you could find that ring?"

"Harry, I can't take - " Ron begins.

"Don't be a prat," I tell him. "Cedrella was your grandmother, wasn't she? That makes the ring - if there is one - a genuine Weasley family heirloom!"

Ron looks doubtfully at Kreacher, who nods. "Harry Potter speaks the truth," he says firmly. "Shall Kreacher fetch the ring now, sir?"

"Hurry," Ron says, glancing nervously at his watch. "If Hermione - "

"Kreacher's Miss is nowhere near finished, sir," Kreacher says calmly. "Miss likes to take her time with her wrapping."

All the same, he's back within a very few minutes. I catch myself thinking that Kreacher must still have a secret stash of Black family treasures somewhere to have located the ring so quickly - but as far as I'm concerned, he's welcome to them. "Miss Cedrella's ring, sir," he says to Ron, holding out a gnarled hand.

Ron takes it from him eagerly and examines it. "Pretty," I say, looking down at it.

"That blue stone in the middle's a sapphire, I think," Ron says. "And the ones around it are diamonds. I'll bet it's worth a good amount of gold. Do you really think it's all right for me to give it to Hermione, Harry? Maybe it ought to go to Dad."

"Your mum's got an engagement ring, doesn't she?" I say, exasperated. "And so does Fleur - and no one else is engaged. That just leaves you - unless you think we ought to give it to your Auntie Muriel."

Ron grins at me. "Okay, I'll take it," he says. He turns to Kreacher. "Thanks for finding this."

Kreacher bows slightly. "Kreacher was fond of Miss Cedrella," he says, and disappears.

"That's settled, then," Ron says, sinking back down on the sofa with a sigh of relief. "Hermione'll like this one, don't you think?"

I hear a step in the hall. "Better hide it, unless you mean to give it to her right now," I advise. Ron looks alarmed and shoves the ring into his pocket just as Hermione appears in the doorway.

**Draco**

"It never would have been allowed, you know," Blaise Zabini says.

I glance up at him, silhouetted against the window. I haven't wanted to see anyone, but I don't mind Zabini. He's so completely self-absorbed that being with him is almost restful.

"I don't see why not," I say, even though I know he's right. We were going to elope, Clarissa and I…

"They might look the other way if you wanted to marry a half-blood," Zabini says. "But a blood traitor's nearly as bad as a Muggle-Born. It's simply not done."

"Did they send you to talk to me?" I ask abruptly.

Zabini looks offended. "No one _sends_ me anywhere," he says coldly, but I think I'm right.

Zabini's moved on, examining the row of empty firewhisky bottles on the mantel. "Did you drink all these?" he asks disapprovingly. "You've got to pull yourself together, Malfoy."

"Why?" I ask. Clarissa's dead, and I don't care what happens to me now.

"Because you owe it to - to the people who care about you," Zabini says briskly.

Like he's one of them? Now I know they sent him. They must have something on him, or he'd never have agreed to come. Zabini doesn't care about the Death Eaters - he never did. He likes being a pureblood, and he likes being rich, but he's not about to get involved in anything that might cause him trouble.

"What do they want me to do?" I ask dully. I might just as well do it - then maybe they'll leave me alone.

Zabini looks suddenly shifty. "Who?" he asks, deliberately misunderstanding me. "Your parents? Well, I expect they'd like you to give up that ridiculous job at the Ministry, marry a nice pureblood girl, and give them a couple of grandchildren."

"I'll never marry anyone," I say.

"You'll meet someone else," Zabini says carelessly. "After all, one girl is very like another."

"You ought to know," I say. Zabini went out with nearly every girl in Slytherin at one time or another. None of them lasted very long. "Was there anyone you missed?"

"Well, I passed on Millicent Bulstrode," Zabini says. "I have got _some_ standards."

I laugh unwillingly and Zabini drifts toward the door. "I have a dinner engagement," he says, looking at his watch. "Are you going to be all right, Malfoy?"

"Yeah," I say, even though I'm not. "Tell them I'll do whatever they like."

It doesn't matter anymore. Potter was wrong - love doesn't save anybody. Love nearly ruined me. It's my fault Clarissa's dead. I don't care what happens to me now.

**Ron**

"Ron," Perdita hisses, nudging me. "I think he's coming out!"

I was half-asleep, but that wakes me up in a hurry. "Where?" I whisper back, pulling my wand out. "I don't see him."

Perdita nods toward the entrance of the flat. It's dark in this alley, even though it's only the middle of the afternoon, but now I can see something pale moving about. "Cover me," Perdita whispers, and I take up my position behind her as she moves forward slowly.

"Is that you, Draco?" she calls softly. "We'd like to talk to you."

"If that's an Auror, you can go to hell," Malfoy's voice says, a bit thickly. "I suppose I can visit my family for Christmas if I choose."

"You're free to visit anyone you like," Perdita says. "But you need to be careful. We can help - "

Malfoy turns unsteadily and Disapparates without waiting for the rest of the sentence.

"Seemed like he'd been drinking, didn't he?" I say. "Reckon we'd better follow him?"

"Maybe not," Perdita says. "Let me just send a message to - er - someone."

To Lurleen, I'll bet, but I'm not sure if I'm supposed to know about that or not. I decide not to mention it, just in case.

"There," Perdita says, finishing. "Well, I don't mind admitting I'm rather pleased with this turn of events. I wasn't looking forward to spending Christmas sitting in Knockturn Alley."

"I wasn't looking forward to telling Hermione if I had to work Christmas Eve," I admit. "We're supposed to visit her parents."

Perdita grins at me. "Breaking the news, are you?" She's about to say something else, but a squirrel-shaped Patronus is forming in front of us.

"Arrival confirmed," it says, in a woman's voice. "I'll take it from here."

"Who was that?" I ask, just to see what she'll say.

"Another Auror," Perdita says, deliberately vague. She sees my expression and adds, "Sorry, Ron. It's not that I don't trust you, but Gawain's given strict orders about what the trainees are allowed to know. And mind you don't tell him I taught you Auror Code, because he hasn't approved it yet."

"Oh, come on," I say. "How am I supposed to be an Auror if I don't even know what people are talking about?" I reckon I'd better not tell Perdita that I taught Harry the Auror Code - or that Hermione knows it better than either one of us, just from hearing us practicing. It's not like Hermione'd use it for anything bad - she just can't help having that sort of brain.

"I know it seems stupid," Perdita says. "If it's any consolation, we've all had to go through it - and you're getting to do things I didn't do until third year."

That's stupid, too - seems to me they ought to start right out with active duty - but it's not Perdita's fault. She didn't make the rules. "What are we supposed to do now?" I ask. "Go home?"

Perdita grins at me. "What, without searching Malfoy's flat?" she asks. "Now, what fun would that be?"

Now that's more like it. "Wait," Perdita cautions as I leap to my feet. "There are only two of us, so we're going to have to be careful. Have you learned how to do a Supersensory Charm yet?"

"A what?" I say.

"It's so you can see what's behind you without having to turn around," Perdita explains. "Maybe I shouldn't show you, if Gawain hasn't mentioned it."

"Ah, go on," I say coaxingly. "It's just a charm." And this is one I'm bloody well not showing Hermione. It'll be dead useful, knowing when she's coming up behind me.

**Hermione**

"We might just as well leave," Miranda says, sitting down on the edge of my desk. "Practically everyone else has."

"It's barely three o'clock," I protest. "And I've still got some revisions to make to this. And - "

"_And_ it's the holidays, _and_ I haven't finished my shopping," Miranda says. "Go on, Hermione - I want to lock up. Whatever you're revising can wait until after Christmas, can't it?"

I suppose so - seeing as I don't know whether anyone's going to bother looking at it anyway. "All right," I say, rolling the parchment up carefully.

"Goodness, that's long," Miranda says, watching me.

"I'm rewriting the procedure manual for the House-Elf Relocation Office the way I think it ought to be," I explain. "I don't know if it'll do any good or not, but I thought - "

"Hermione," Miranda interrupts, and then hesitates.

"What?" I say.

"Just - well, don't make waves, all right?" Miranda says. "I know you're just trying to do what you think is the right thing, but Damaris could make a lot of trouble for you if she wanted to."

"I wasn't going to ask her to critique it," I points out, and Miranda grins reluctantly.

"I know," she says. "But what are you going to do with it? Give it to the Minister?"

"I wasn't thinking of showing it to Kingsley," I say. _Not yet, anyway._ "I just wanted to write it, that's all. It makes me feel as though I'm doing something useful."

"Good," Miranda says, looking relieved. "Now, help me decide what to get my boyfriend for Christmas. I can't think of anything."

"I didn't know you had a boyfriend," I say, grateful for the change in subject. "What's he like?"

Miranda starts to tell me, but my mind's wandering. She's the second person who's mentioned me showing my House-Elf Manual to Kingsley. Maybe - just maybe - it's not as far-fetched an idea as I'd thought.

**Harry**

Ginny's already waiting when I meet her, as prearranged, in the Leaky Cauldron. I pause for a second, watching her talk to Neville and Hannah. She turns suddenly and sees me.

"Harry!" she calls, and runs toward me, throwing herself into my arms. "Oh, Harry, you've no idea how good it is to see you!"

"Don't I?" I say, bending to kiss her. For once I don't care that we're in the middle of a crowded pub, and neither does Ginny.

"Come say hello to Neville," she says at last, drawing back. "And then I suppose we'll have to go shopping. I haven't bought anything yet."

"Neither have I," I say, slipping an arm around her shoulders as we make our way back toward the bar.

"Come have a drink with us," Neville invites, but I shake my head.

"Can't," I say. "We've got shopping to do." And much as I like Neville, I want to be alone with Ginny right now.

"We'll see you at Seamus's club on New Year's," Ginny says consolingly.

"Dunno if I'm going," Neville says. He looks sideways at Hannah, over on the other side of the bar serving a customer.

"Haven't you asked her out _yet_?" I say.

Neville flushes and looks down. "Not exactly," he mumbles.

"Leave it to me," Ginny says, taking in the whole situation immediately. She waves to Hannah. "We were just talking about Seamus's party," she says casually, when Hannah joins us. "Why don't you and Neville come with Harry and me? We could all meet here first."

"That sounds like fun," Hannah says, looking eagerly at Neville.

"Yeah, I'd like that," he manages.

"Good," I say briskly. "We'll see you then."

Ginny grins at Neville. "That's your Christmas present from Harry and me," she whispers.

"Cheers," Neville says, grinning back. "See you New Year's Eve."

Diagon Alley's crowded with shoppers, but no one seems to mind the long lines. "I love this time of year," Ginny says happily. "All of the decorations look so beautiful, don't they?" She pauses in front of Flourish & Blotts. "Where should we go first?" she asks. "I'm sure I could find something for Hermione in here."

"You're probably getting a personal organizer from her," I warn, but I let her pull me into the shop.

I finally feel like it's Christmas, now that Ginny's here. I don't even mind that people are pointing at me and whispering. "You're Harry Potter!" a woman announces, stopping directly in front of me.

"Yes," I admit.

The woman looks at Ginny. "You're a lucky girl," she says. "Having a famous boyfriend and all."

"Am I?" Ginny says innocently. "Funny; I always told Harry _he_ was the lucky one for having me."

The woman gapes at her, uncomprehending. "Are you famous, too?" she asks dubiously.

"Happy Christmas," I say hastily, taking Ginny's arm and leading her off. "Sorry about that," I say. "It's been happening a lot lately."

"We might as well get used to it," Ginny says. "I think it's going to be like that for the rest of our lives."

I like the way she said "our lives", like we'll always be together. I pull her a little bit closer. "I haven't gotten your present yet," I say.

"I don't have yours, either," Ginny confesses. "I couldn't think what to get you - except a new broom, but I'd never be able to afford it."

"Really?" I say, amazed. "I thought about getting you one, too, but you'll be getting a Firebolt when you join the Harpies."

"_If_, not _when_," Ginny corrects me quickly. "I'm not usually superstitious, but in this case…"

"You'll be brilliant," I say reassuringly. "I'll help you practice."

Ginny stops short in the middle of the street. "What are you going to practice on?" she asks.

I hadn't thought of that. "Dunno," I admit. "There're always extra brooms in your shed, aren't there?"

"Those old things," Ginny says scornfully. "You couldn't catch me on one of those even with a head start. I'll tell you what, Harry - let's go to Quality Quidditch Supplies and pick out a new broom for you."

"It's Christmas," I remind her. "I'm supposed to be shopping for other people."

"Yes, but this is partially for me so you can help me practice for my tryout," Ginny says shamelessly. "I'll pay part of it, and you can pay the rest, and it can be my Christmas present to you. All right?"

"All right," I say, giving in. In spite of myself, I feel excited at the idea of getting a new broom. "And after that, let's go to Eeylops and get you an owl. We won't be able to use the school ones anymore if you're traveling with the Harpies, and you can't say much in a Patronus message."

**Ron**

"Ron, get up!" Hermione says.

"Why?" I ask. It seems like a logical question to me, seeing as it's the middle of the night, but Hermione makes an exasperated noise and puts the light on.

"It's nearly five o'clock," she says. "Which means it's nearly four in the afternoon in Australia, and Mum and Dad are expecting us soon. Mum said we'd have dinner at six."

Dinner? I'm not even ready for breakfast yet. "Five more minutes," I bargain, but Hermione's standing over me with her wand out and I'm really not quite sure what she'll do to me if I don't get up. I roll out of bed, groaning.

"A nice hot shower will make you feel better," Hermione says briskly, opening the wardrobe.

"_Is_ it going to be hot?" I ask, eying her wet hair.

"I fixed the water," Hermione says from the depths of the wardrobe. "Don't I always?"

Not always - I've had a few nasty surprises. "Yeah," I say, deciding I'm not awake enough to argue.

It's still dark out when we make our way down the stairs. Harry's door is closed. "Still sleeping," I say enviously.

"Come on," Hermione says, oblivious. "Are you sure we've got their presents?"

The Grangers act pleased to see me, but I see Mrs. Granger look nervously toward the kitchen. "Don't worry," I say quickly. "I swear I won't touch the microwave."

"Oh, I never thought - " Mrs. Granger protests, blushing. She looks a lot like Hermione when she does that.

"Yes, you did," Mr. Granger says cheerfully. "Come into the sitting room and have a look at the tree, you two."

"Now," Mrs. Granger says, once we're all settled. "Tell us what you've been doing. Hermione says you're involved in some sort of security work, Ron?"

You could call it that, I guess. "Sort of," I say, wondering just how I can explain. "The Aurors - er - track down what we call dark wizards - you know, wizards who do - er - bad things - and - "

"Oh, like the one you told us about last time you were here," Mr. Granger says, nodding. "I'm afraid I've forgotten his name - Lord Something?"

There was quite a lot we didn't tell them last time, and I don't see any point in getting into it now. I mean, it's all over - why worry them?

"Yeah," I say, leaving it at that.

"The Aurors are terribly difficult to get into, you know," Hermione says, leaning forward. "Ron had to pass all sorts of tests to be accepted into the training program. He - "

"Hermione?" Mrs. Granger interrupts. "Where did you get that?"

She's looking at Hermione's left hand. I gave her the ring last night - I was pretty sure there wouldn't be time this morning.

"Ron gave it to me for Christmas," Hermione says proudly. "Isn't it beautiful?" She extends her hand so her mother can see.

"It's gorgeous," Mrs. Granger says hesitantly. "Does it - er - mean something special?"

Here we go. "It means we're engaged," I say bravely.

The Grangers look at each other; then at us. "Mum?" Hermione says. "Aren't you pleased for us?"

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Granger manages after a second. "But you're so young - barely nineteen - and - "

"We're not getting married for at least a year," I say quickly. "I've got to finish my training first."

"A year…" Mrs. Granger repeats, looking dazed. Hermione gets up and goes over to her mother, putting her arms around her.

Mr. Granger gets to his feet. "Ron, I think you and I ought to leave the ladies alone for a minute," he says, beckoning to me.

I follow him out of the room, wondering if maybe he thinks I ought to have asked his permission first. Maybe I should have, only it seems sort of old-fashioned. Anyway, I don't think Hermione's asked her parents' permission for anything since she first learned she was a witch. She just decides what she wants to do and then convinces them that it's a good idea.

"In here," Mr. Granger says, leading me into his study and closing the door. "Now, I think this calls for a drink, don't you?"

I haven't even had breakfast yet, but I'm not about to argue. "Yeah, all right," I say. I'll just drink it really slowly. He doesn't seem like he's mad at me, anyway.

"I've some rather nice brandy that I've been saving for a special occasion," Mr. Granger says, going over to a cabinet in the corner.

I've never heard of brandy - it must be a Muggle thing. Mr. Granger hands me a huge glass with about a thimbleful of liquid in it and motions me into a chair.

"Engaged," he says, and shakes his head, half-smiling. "It seems like only yesterday that Hermione was born, and now she's about to get married. Well, well…"

He takes a sip from his glass. I do the same and just barely manage to keep from spitting it out. No need to worry about drinking _this_ lot too fast - it tastes like lamp oil. Looks like it, too.

"I'll take really good care of her," I say, when I feel like I can talk again. "I know we're young, but - "

"Nineteen _is_ young," Mr. Granger says. "I was twenty-seven when I got married, and even that seems young to me now. It's a big step, marriage."

I won't actually be nineteen until March, but I don't see any reason to point that out. "The thing is, we had to grow up pretty fast, what with - er - everything that happened last year," I explain.

"Yes, of course," Mr. Granger says, not having a clue what I mean. "And of course you're waiting a year - I think that's a good plan. Sometimes our feelings do change, much as we think they won't. I know it's all very romantic now, and you each think the other one's perfect in every way, but that state of affairs doesn't last forever, you know."

I can't help laughing. "I don't think she's perfect," I say truthfully. "Hermione drives me absolutely mental sometimes, but all the same I can't live without her - and she feels the same way about me."

Mr. Granger laughs suddenly. "Like that, is it?" he says, sounding amused. "Then I take back everything I've said. Maybe you _are_ ready to be married." He raises his glass to me, and somehow I manage to choke down another mouthful.

"I see you appreciate good brandy," Mr. Granger says approvingly. "There are plenty who don't take the time to savor it properly."

I could probably savor this for the next ten years and still not feel the need to finish it off. I look around hopefully for a plant pot or something I could pour it into, but there's nothing.

"And now I think we'd better rejoin the ladies," Mr. Granger says, getting up. "You can take your glass with you, if you like." He pats me on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family, Ron."

"And of course you'll want to be married in England," Mrs. Granger's saying as we come back into the sitting room. "It's a lucky thing we haven't sold our house yet - we can move back a month or so before the wedding and have it there. If it's summer time we could hold it out in the garden, and - "

Hermione throws me a panicked look. It sounds like she was just a little bit _too_ convincing with her mum. "We're not getting married for ages," she says quickly. "There's plenty of time to decide all that later."

"You've no idea how much is involved in planning a wedding," Mrs. Granger says, patting her hand. "I really think we'd better make a list of the things you'll need to start thinking about."

"A list?" Hermione repeats, looking tempted. Now I know where she gets it from.

"You write one, dear, and mail it to her," Mr. Granger suggests. "Dinner must be nearly ready, isn't it?"

I look at him gratefully. He's all right, Mr. Granger - even if he did give me lamp oil to drink.

It's late by the time we finally leave Australia, but it's just past noon when we get back to Grimmauld Place. Kreacher meets us in the hall.

"Harry Potter's Miss has already collected him," he says when I ask.

"So Harry's already gone to the Burrow," Hermione says, yawning. "Well, I suppose we could go along, too - even though it is a bit early - or - "

"Or we could have a nap," I say firmly. Three or four hours sounds about right.

**Draco**

"Darling, I wish you'd move home," Mother says for what's easily the hundredth time. "There's simply no reason for you to stay in that horrid little flat when we have all of these empty rooms here."

No reason except that she and Father are both safer without me around. I'm only here now because my instructions from Zabini were to return to Malfoy Manor. At least, that's what I think he meant. Zabini can be a bit too enigmatic at times.

"I need to be on my own for a bit," I say. "I just thought, for Christmas…"

"At least you've given up that ridiculous job," Mother says.

"I haven't given it up," I contradict, even though I'm not sure I'll ever be able to go back. I can't face that office without Clarissa. "I've just taken a - a leave of absence, that's all."

Mother opens her mouth, but Father gives her a look that means _let it go_. "I've told Lurleen to prepare all of your favorite things for dinner," she says instead. "And she's cleaned up all of the mess those horrible burglars left in your room."

"Good," I say wearily. I wish Rodolphus would go ahead and make his move. I wish I could have a drink.

Father eyes me sharply and I wonder if he knows what I'm thinking. "Do you know, Narcissa, I had a look in Draco's room on my way downstairs and it seemed to me that Lurleen hadn't done a very good job with the dusting," he says.

Mother utters a small cry of horror and hurries out of the room, calling for Lurleen.

"There," Father says, a bit grimly. "That'll occupy her for a least a quarter of an hour. Listen closely, Draco, because we haven't much time."

I'm prepared for him to say something about how Clarissa and I wouldn't have lasted anyway, so his next words take me by surprise.

"I have reason to believe that your uncle Rodolphus may be alive," Father says. "Has he tried to contact you, Draco?"

**Harry**

"Much better!" I say approvingly, as Ginny swoops past me and scores again. "Do it just like that at your tryout and they'll be begging you to join the team."

"I don't think Gwenog Jones has to beg anyone to join the Harpies," Ginny says, but she looks pleased.

"Have a go on the Firebolt," I offer, sliding off. "Just as well to get the feel of it in case Gwenog has you ride one."

Ginny gets on eagerly, kicking off from the ground and disappearing before I've even had the chance to follow on her broom. "This is brilliant!" she calls to me happily. "I feel like I'm positively unstoppable on this."

"They'll all be riding them, too," I warn, but I know what she means.

It's starting to get dark by the time we've had enough. "Harry, wait a minute," Ginny says, grabbing my arm as I'm about to leave the broomshed.

I make sure the door's closed and reach for her. "That was lovely, but it wasn't quite what I meant," Ginny says breathlessly, several minutes later. "I want to know what's been bothering you."

"What do you mean?" I hedge.

Ginny eyes me. "You've done a good job covering up, but I think I know you well enough to realize when something's on your mind," she says. "What's wrong, Harry? Or can't you tell me?"

I can't tell her everything, but the business with Clarissa is common knowledge. The _Daily Prophet_ said chemicals stored in the empty shop under the flat caused the explosion, but Robards had to lean pretty heavily on Rita Skeeter to get her to write it that way. I think he knows something about her that she doesn't want made public. "I can tell you some of it," I say, doing a quick _Muffliato_. "You've heard about the girl who was killed in the explosion a few weeks ago?"

Ginny listens in silence, holding my hand tightly. "That poor girl," she says at the end. "She sounds rather nice, even if she was in love with Malfoy."

"She might have changed his mind about a few things, given the chance," I say. "I think it's too late now."

"You said the Aurors were watching him," Ginny begins, but I shake my head.

"He's gone back to Malfoy Manor, at least for the holidays," I explain. "Ron and Perdita searched his flat, but they didn't find anything." Nothing but a lot of empty firewhisky bottles, according to Ron.

"Well, I don't know what they expected to find," Ginny says logically. "You said Malfoy told Clarissa he'd lost whatever-it-is the Death Eaters are looking for."

I probably shouldn't have told her that part, but Ginny won't say anything. "Didn't anyone come to see him?" she's asking.

"Just Lucius and Narcissa, but he wouldn't let them in," I say. "The only person he did let in was Blaise Zabini, but he didn't stay very long."

Ginny makes a face. "Zabini's the last person I'd want to see if I was upset about something, but I'd be really surprised if he was involved with the Death Eaters," she says. "He's only interested in himself."

That was pretty much my take on it, too. "I'm going to try to talk to Malfoy again after Christmas," I say.

"I actually feel sorry for him," Ginny admits. "I - "

"Someone's coming," I say, holding up a hand. I open the shed door and spot George walking up the path toward us.

"I've been sent to fetch you," he says. "Andromeda Tonks and Teddy just arrived - and if Ron and Hermione ever get here, we can have dinner."

"They had to go to Australia first," I remind him. "Hermione's parents."

"Yeah, but it's not like Ron to be late for a meal," George says. "Even if it _is_ his second Christmas Eve dinner today." He grins at me. "Maybe the Grangers didn't take the news well."

"What news?" Ginny asks alertly.

**Hermione**

Mrs. Weasley spots the ring on my finger before I've even got my cloak off. "Hermione?" she asks, grabbing my hand.

I turn to Ron. "Yeah, we're engaged," he says, trying to act offhand. "I was going to wait and announce it at dinner, but - "

Mrs. Weasley lets out a shriek and hugs both of us at the same time. "Oh, I'm so pleased, dear," she says to me, wiping her eyes. "Of course, you're very young, but then so were Arthur and I, and look how well that's turned out!"

Everyone's crowding around us now. Mr. Weasley pats my shoulder. "I've always thought of you as another daughter, my dear," he says kindly, and I smile gratefully at him.

Ginny hugs me. "I'll be glad to have one sister-in-law I can stand," she whispers, just as Fleur swoops over and demands to see the ring.

"You'll want to be married from here, I suppose," Mrs. Weasley's saying. "With Hermione's parents being in Australia and all. I'm afraid the Death Eaters destroyed the tents we had for Bill and Fleur's wedding, but I'm sure we could - "

"Ron," I whisper, tugging at his arm.

"Mum, we're not getting married for at least a year," Ron says, but she's not listening.

Oh dear. And my mother wants us to be married there.

"Never mind," Ron says in my ear. "We can always just elope."

He's joking - I think. Maybe not.

Percy's looking at my ring now, too. "Very nice," he says, looking almost surprised. "Where did you say you bought it, Ron?"

"I didn't," Ron says. "Kreacher found it for me. He said it was our grandmother Cedrella's."

"My mother's?" Mr. Weasley says, interested. "Well, her birthday was in September. I suppose it very well could have belonged to her."

"Hermione's birthday's in September, too," Ron says, but he looks puzzled by this comment.

"Sapphire's my birthstone," I whisper.

"I knew that," Ron says, his face clearing.

He did not. "I hope you don't mind me having it," I say anxiously to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, both of whom quickly assure me that they're delighted.

"Bill ees the oldest son," Fleur begins, looking covetously at my hand. "Eet seems to me that as 'is wife, I - "

"Come into the sitting room," Bill says, drawing her away firmly. "You can open your present from me early." 


	18. Chapter 18

**Harry**

"Are you nervous?" I whisper.

Ginny shakes her head, but her hand is ice-cold in mine. I give it an encouraging squeeze. "You'll be brilliant," I say firmly.

Ginny gives me a half-smile, but her attention's on the field. The Harpies have arrived, it looks like. I watch with her as they fly in lazy circles, checking out the prospective team members. There are two other girls besides Ginny here. I don't recognize either of them, but an elderly man standing nearby volunteers the information that they're both foreign. "One's from Finland or one of those countries where it snows half the year," he says. "Dunno about the other - she doesn't seem to speak much English."

"Have you seen either of them fly yet?" Ginny asks, but the man shakes his head.

"Trying out, are you?" he asks. "Well, good luck to you, miss! I'd sooner have an English girl on the team then one of them foreigners, but Gwenog's got it into her head that she ought to broaden her scope, so to speak."

I can't help wondering who he is. I'm trying to think of a polite way to ask when Gwenog Jones herself appears on the field and beckons to him. The man flicks his wand at an enormous case and levitates it in her direction, trotting after it.

"That's Clyde Paisley, the equipment manager for the Harpies," Ginny says out of the side of her mouth. "He's been with them for ages, and he's absolutely devoted to Gwenog."

"How do you know all that?" I ask curiously.

Ginny blushes. "_Witch Weekly_," she admits. "They had an article last month about all of the eligible singles in the Quidditch world."

I grin at her. "And Clyde was one of them?"

"No, idiot," Ginny says, laughing. "Gwenog. And so was your old friend, Viktor Krum. I hope he won't be heartbroken when he find out Hermione's engaged."

"I think he got a pretty good idea of the way things were going at Bill's wedding," I say, remembering Viktor's covetous glances at Ginny. He'd bloody well better keep away from her if he knows what's good for him.

"Harry, what do you think of this engagement business?" Ginny asks suddenly.

We haven't really said much about it- there've been too many other things to talk about. "It took me by surprise, at first," I admit. "I mean - it seems a bit soon, doesn't it? But I'm getting used to the idea now."

"Well, I think they're far too young to be thinking about getting married," Ginny says decidedly. "Bill agrees with me, but he says it's the best thing that could possibly happen to Ron. Now, Charlie thinks Ron's completely lost his mind, but that's because Charlie has a different girlfriend every time I see him. And George said - "

A whistle blows, cutting her off in mid-sentence. The color drains from Ginny's face. "You're going to be brilliant," I say again, kissing her for luck. "Anyway, Clyde likes you the best."

Ginny pats my hand absently and mounts her broom. "Over here, please!" Gwenog's calling.

"She means you," I say, when Ginny remains frozen in place. "Off you go!"

Ginny flies toward Gwenog and the others without a backward look. I retreat to the stands and find myself a seat with a good view. A middle-aged couple and a man who looks like he could be someone's grandfather are already sitting there. All three of them regard me with suspicion, and the woman leans close to her husband to whisper something. They both look at Ginny and then back at me. I offer a weak grin, which isn't returned by either of them.

Well, at least no one's recognized me. It's cold out, and I've got my hat pulled down low and my collar turned up to keep out the wind. Nice to just be known as Ginny Weasley's boyfriend for once…

They're starting. Gwenog has each of the three prospects fly around the field separately, then together. Clyde jogs out and tosses the Quaffle into the air. Ginny immediately takes possession of it and scores a goal neatly.

"Nice one!" I call. The grandfather-man throws me a filthy look and turns his back on me.

Now the other Harpies are joining in. They split into two teams, playing five-on-a-side. The Harpies aren't holding back at all - they play as though they're in a World Cup final - but Ginny's managing to hold her own against them. She's easily the best of the three prospects in my opinion, but I'm not exactly objective. I only hope Gwenog agrees with me.

She does, apparently. She blows her whistle again, summoning the three over to her. I'm not close enough to hear what she says, but the two foreign girls turn and fly slowly back to the stands, looking dejected. One's in tears, and the middle-aged woman rushes over to comfort her. "Sorry," I mumble, passing her.

But Ginny - Gwenog's still talking to her, and Ginny's nodding eagerly. She turns, looking for me, and motions wildly. "Harry, I made it!" she calls.

**Ron**

"Well?" I ask.

"Well, what?" Hermione says calmly, but I can tell she knows what I mean.

"Your house-elf manual thing," I say. "Did you show it to Kingsley?"

"Not yet," Hermione admits. "I wanted to look it over once more first."

"Why?" I say. "It's brilliant the way it is." It is, too. Hermione read it to me last night. I wasn't exactly looking forward to it, at first - I just thought I'd better be a bit more supportive, now that we're getting married and all that - but it was actually really good. (It was also quite a bit shorter than I'd expected, which helped considerably.) "If you don't show it to him, I will," I threaten.

"You will not," Hermione says firmly. "All right, I'll show it to him right after lunch."

"Good," I say, picking up my sandwich. "Just think, Hermione - wouldn't it be great if he got rid of Damaris for you? You and what's-her-name - Miranda - you could run the whole place by yourselves."

Hermione bites her lip without answering. "What?" I say, swallowing my bite of sandwich.

"Miranda," Hermione whispers. "She didn't want me to show Kingsley what I was working on."

"Why the hell not?" I ask. It seems like a reasonable enough question to me, but Hermione just shrugs.

"She said Damaris would make trouble," she says after a minute. "But I think there was something else, too."

I think about it. "I'll bet she's worried about that boss of hers," I suggest. "You know, that bloke who just sleeps in his office all day. He'll probably get the sack if Kingsley starts looking into what really goes on in there."

"That's probably it," Hermione says, looking relieved. "I almost thought - oh, I don't know what I thought!"

"You don't have to be nervous," I say, pushing my plate aside and taking her hand. "It's _Kingsley_, not bloody Scrimgeour or Fudge. He'll listen to you."

"I'm not nervous, exactly," Hermione says. "I just hate to bother him with this when he's got so many other things to worry about."

"He's been Minister since May," I point out. "It's the end of December. He must have things nearly straightened out by _now_."

I think it sounds pretty logical, but Hermione bursts out laughing. "I have a feeling it hasn't been quite that easy," she says, recovering. "But I do see your point."

"Want me to go with you?" I offer.

"No," Hermione says. "I'll be fine. You just go on back to the Auror Department and do - er - Auror things, and I'll tell you all about it tonight."

I can't help laughing to myself on my way back upstairs - _Auror things?_ - but my smile disappears in a hurry when I see Perdita's expression. "Don't tell me," I say with a groan. "Malfoy's holed up in Knockturn Alley again and we've got to spend New Year's Eve watching him."

Perdita shakes her head. "He's still at the Manor," she says. "But he's finally agreed to talk to an Auror - on one condition. It's got to be you."

I stare at her stupidly. "Me?" I repeat. "Why?" In spite of myself I can't help hoping I won't have to go to Malfoy Manor to do it. I never want to see that place again.

"I don't know," Perdita admits. "He sent an owl addressed to Gawain, and that's all the letter said. At least, that's all Gawain told me. Oh, and he wants to see you right away."

"Malfoy?" I ask.

"No, Gawain," Perdita says impatiently. She gives me a little push in the direction of Robards' office. "Hurry up - he's waiting."

"You're coming in with me, aren't you?" I say nervously. I'm not all that comfortable with Robards on my own.

"If he lets me," Perdita says doubtfully. "He's not exactly in the best of moods."

Great - that's all I bloody need. I take a deep breath and knock.

"What?" Robards snaps.

I inch the door open and poke my head in. "Perdita said you wanted to see me," I say.

"Come in and close the door," Robards says coldly. Perdita slips in after me, but he doesn't try to stop her. "Sit down, Mr. Weasley. Can you think of any reason why Draco Malfoy would have chosen _you_, out of all of the Aurors in this Department, for this most unexpected meeting?"

"No," I say honestly. "Malfoy and I have always hated each other, ever since we were kids." I think about telling Robards about knocking Malfoy down for calling Hermione "Mudblood", but decide maybe now's not a good time.

"You can't think of any reason?" Robards asks, raising his eyebrows. "Not even one?"

The only reason I can think of isn't exactly a flattering one, but I'll bet Robards is thinking the same thing anyway. "Well," I say. "He never did give me any credit for having a brain. He could be thinking I'd be the easiest to fool."

"Precisely, Mr. Weasley," Robards says icily. "And I don't mind telling you that I have entertained a few doubts of my own on that score."

Ah, come on. It's one thing for _me_ to say it, but…

"You're not being fair, Gawain," Perdita says, coming to my defense. "Ron's done really well."

Robards doesn't even look at her. "I will admit that you handled the matter of the Cattermoles efficiently," he says to me. "This, however, will require far more than quick thinking on your part. You will need to be careful, circumspect, - and above all, discreet. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

I'd have to be an idiot not to understand. "Yeah," I say, but Robards isn't listening.

"This is not a story that you can go home and entertain your fiancee with," he says sternly. "I want you to be very clear on that, Mr. Weasley."

No worries there. Hermione'd lose her mind if she thought I was going within a mile of Malfoy Manor. I notice he didn't say anything about Harry, though. "I understand," I say quickly, before he can correct his mistake. "Er - when does Malfoy want to see me?"

"This afternoon," Robards says. "Which doesn't give us much time to prepare. I want you to give me your undivided attention, Mr. Weasley. We need to go over your part in this very, very carefully."

**Hermione**

"Well, this seems to be in order," Kingsley says, looking up at last. "Do you mind telling me what they've been using?"

"This," I say, handing him Amos Diggory's manual.

Kingsley leafs through it, looking dumbfounded. "I had no idea," he says. "Oh, I knew house-elves didn't have many rights, but this system places far too much power in the hands of the masters. No, you're quite right to want to amend it."

"So you'll approve the changes?" I ask eagerly.

Kingsley sighs and leans back in his chair. "It's not quite that simple," he says wearily. "You see, Hermione, there are a number of laws that I feel ought to be changed. Laws that have, shall we say, outlived their usefulness."

Well, that's admirable, surely. "So you're going to change them?" I prompt.

"I'm trying," Kingsley says. "Unfortunately, everything has to be approved by the Wizengamut, and they're not quite as amenable to change as you and I are."

"But you're the Minister of Magic!" I protest.

Kingsley laughs shortly. "Yes," he says. "I'm the Minister of Magic. But that doesn't mean I have absolute power - and it's quite right that I shouldn't. Still, some of the members of the Wizengamut have been making it difficult to get _anything_ through."

I look closely at him for the first time and realize he looks like he hasn't had a proper night's sleep in months. "What you need is some really supportive people in the Wizengamut," I say. "People who would be more receptive to your ideas."

"I'm working on it," Kingsley says. He grins at me. "Too bad they have to be voted in - I'd appoint you, if I could."

"Thanks," I say. "But I'd rather be one of the people who thinks up the new ideas."

Kingsley looks at me appraisingly. "Keep at it," he says. "You're off to a good start. It's a pity you didn't finish at Hogwarts, Hermione. I'd like to have someone like you in the Department of Magical Law, but they're quite strict about their requirements. It's a minimum of eight NEWTs, I believe."

"Thanks," I say again. "Anyway, if I can get the house-elf laws changed, that'll be worth something."

"Yes, it will," Kingsley says. "Well, I'll appoint a committee to present this to the Wizengamut. Don't expect any overnight miracles, but we'll try to get at least some of these through."

I'm still thinking about what he said as I make my way back to the House-Elf Relocation Office. I wonder just what the requirements are for Magical Law? It wouldn't take a minute to look it up - and it's not as though I've anything better to do.

Kingsley understated things, I realize a few minutes later. You need nine NEWTs, not eight - and they never, ever make exceptions to that.

If I'd gone back to school… but if I had, I've have missed these past few months with Ron, and I'd rather be engaged to him than working for the Department of Magical Law. I've always wanted to marry Ron…

"Are you taking that, Miss?" the clerk asks, gesturing at the book I'm holding.

"No," I say, starting to hand it back. "Wait. I think I will take it."

"Sign here," the clerk says, pushing a piece of parchment at me. "If you keep it more than a week, it's - "

"I know," I say. "Thanks."

**Draco**

It's all set. He's coming. I can only hope Weasley's not as stupid as I've always thought, because this is my only chance. They're all watching me now - even Father. I told him I hadn't seen Rodolphus, but I know he didn't believe me.

_"The only people who have tried to contact me are the damned Aurors," I said. "They seem to think Clarssa's death was suspicious."_

_Father had raised an eyebrow. "And wasn't it?" he asked._

Yes, of course, idiot. _"No," I lied smoothly. "There were explosives of some sort stored in that empty shop under the flat. The whole place could have gone up at any time. It's just sheer luck that I wasn't with her."_

_"Very lucky indeed," Father said. "But surely the shop owner ought to be prosecuted for his negligence."_

_"He's dead," I answered shortly. "The shop belonged to a Muggle-born who was foolish enough to think he had some rights under Thicknesse's administration." Father must know all of this already, surely? He still has plenty of contacts, even if they won't acknowledge him in public._

_"Oh, one of those," Father had said, dismissing the Muggle-born. "Well, then your best option is to see the Aurors and get it over with."_

_I'd stared at him, unable to believe my own ears. "I don't want to talk to them," I protested. I have nothing to say to the Aurors. Why didn't they save Clarissa?_

_"Take my advice and get it over with," Father said. "You've nothing to hide - or have you?"_

_"No, of course I haven't," I answered. Another lie, but who's counting?_

_He left it at that, but the message - waiting for me on my pillow - took it a step further. The letters, forming themselves against the white linen, spelling out five stark words:_

"Consider her the first warning."

_Before I had time to react, they were gone as though they'd never been there. I took up the pillow and shook it violently, but of course there was nothing there. Rodolphus, of course - letting me know he can get to me whenever he wants. And how the hell did he get in?_

_I didn't sleep at all that night, but by morning I had my plan formulated. "I've decided you're right," I said to Father over breakfast. "I'll speak to the Aurors and get it over with."_

_Father had nodded, pleased. "They'll leave us alone if you do," he'd said. "Mind you tell them it's got to be on your terms. And don't let them send more than one. They like to work in pairs, but then it's two against one."_

_"I thought of asking for Weasley," I said, and Father looked briefly startled before breaking into a harsh laugh._

_"Perfect," he said. "You can tell him anything and get away with it, I should think."_

I didn't know if Gawain Robards would agree to my terms, but he did. I asked Father to take Mother away for the day, and after some argument, he gave in. Lurleen's in the kitchen or something, but she won't bother us - Mother left her a small mountain of silver to polish. I wish I felt half as certain that Rodolphus wasn't lurking about somewhere. Maybe he won't come near with an Auror in the house - even though it's Weasley. Rodolphus might not know what an idiot he is.

I pace back and forth in the hall, waiting. I said four o'clock and it's nearly five past. Maybe he isn't coming.

Something silvery shoots past me, making me jump. It looks like some sort of animal, but it's not one I've ever seen before. Before I can get my wand out, it's gone.

"Open the door, Malfoy," a voice says. Weasley's voice. But where the hell is he? I move cautiously to the door and open it about a half-inch. I feel someone push past me, but I don't see - oh. Disillusionment charm.

"Wouldn't Potter lend you his Invisibility Cloak?" I say coldly. "You can take that off - there's no one here but us."

There's a slight movement and Weasley slowly becomes visible. "We can go into the drawing room," I say. "It's just through here."

Is it my imagination, or is Weasley's face paler than usual? "I know where it is," he says, not moving. "I've been in there, remember? You can say whatever you have to say right here."

"I didn't know you were so squeamish," I say, taunting him.

"No?" Weasley says. "I'd have thought you'd understand, after what you've been through. How do you feel about shopping in Diagon Alley these days, _Draco_?"

"Shut up," I say, nearly losing it. "Clarissa's dead."

"And Hermione nearly died, thanks to your aunt," Weasley answers. "But that's not what I came to talk about. You sent for me. Why?"

I take a deep breath and manage to control myself. "Because your lot wouldn't leave me alone," I say. "You've got questions? Let's hear them."

Weasley does something odd with his wand, muttering a word I can't hear. "What was that?" I ask sharply. "What did you just do?"

"Relax," Weasley says. "It's a charm that muffles sound, that's all."

"I told you, no one else is here," I say, but I can't help feeling relieved.

"The Aurors are prepared to offer you protection," Weasley says abruptly. "You'd have to come with me now and go into hiding immediately."

"Forget it," I say. Idiot. If I wouldn't go into hiding when Clarissa was alive, why the hell would I bother now that she's dead?

Weasley shrugs. "Fine with me," he answers. "Right, then. Do you have any idea who was behind the attack in Diagon Alley?"

Very cautiously, now… "Why do you call it an attack?" I say. "You make it sound as though some of the Death Eaters were still at large."

Weasley's face is carefully expressionless. "Maybe they are," he says.

I manage a short laugh. "I suppose the Aurors think they're still working in the Ministry," I say, trying to sound scornful. "Didn't Kingsley Shacklebolt get rid of all of them? Or maybe he didn't. Who do you suspect, Weasley? Or do you think some of them have come back to life - my uncle Rodolphus, for instance?"

I watch as his eyes widen slightly. Maybe he's not quite as stupid as I'd thought. Living with Granger must have rubbed off on him a little.

"Maybe some of them aren't as dead as we'd hoped," Weasley says at last. "Maybe your uncle's one of them. Maybe he knows something about what happened in Diagon Alley. They couldn't have been too pleased with you, Draco - shacking up with a blood traitor."

"Will you shut up about her!" I snap.

"Believe it or not, I really am sorry about what happened to her," Weasley says, looking genuinely apologetic.

This is probably my cue to say I'm sorry Bellatrix nearly killed Granger, but I can't quite bring myself to do it. "If the Aurors thought Rodol- someone - deliberately set that explosion, what would you do?" I say instead.

"Go after him, of course," Weasley says calmly. "But we'd need to know where to look."

I can't help him there, even if I wanted to. I don't know where Rodolphus is. I don't even know who else he's working with - only that there's a long list of people, all involved in the Ministry of Magic. I shrug, not looking at him.

"Or," Weasley says slowly. "It might help if we knew what he's looking for."

My eyes meet his for a startled moment. All I can do is hint, but he'll never get it. "Did you get much reading done when you were at Hogwarts last summer?" I ask abruptly.

"Reading?" Weasley says, his voice as careful as mine was a moment ago. "Yeah, I did a bit. Brushed up on Magical Creatures and that sort of thing."

Bloody hell. He knows. He's got the envelope. The Mudblood must have found it - I don't see Weasley picking up a book of his own volition.

"I trust you found it educational?" I say. My hands are shaking and I jam them into my pockets to hide them.

"Well, it's just memorizing _lists_, isn't it?" Weasley says. "Educational, like you said, but not exactly anything I'd be _dying_ to read, if you know what I mean."

"What about the other thing?" I whisper, abandoning all pretence. "What did you do with it?"

Weasley stares at me in obvious astonishment. "The what?" he says.

"The thing, the _thing_," I say desperately. "It was in the envelope - I never saw it, but that's what he wants." I've said too much, but I'm past caring.

"I don't know what you mean," Weasley says. It's clear he's telling the truth. I must have dropped it somewhere else, then - maybe outside the library?

A shrill alarm sounds from somewhere close by, and I nearly jump a foot. "What the hell?" I say, staring at Weasley.

"I dunno - oh, it's this," Weasley says, pulling something from his pocket.

I don't believe it. "A Sneakoscope?" I say contemptuously. "You really are still a kid, aren't you, Weasley?"

Weasley's ears redden, but he maintains his composure. "They're actually pretty reliable," he says calmly. "You'd be surprised what they can pick up. So I guess the only question, Malfoy, is whether it means you're the untrustworthy one - or if someone else is here."

I look behind me involuntarily, but of course there's no one to be seen. "He'd be invisible," I whisper.

"He?" Weasley says alertly, but I don't dare speak. I shake my head mutely.

"No one can hear what we say," Weasley reminds me, but I don't know if I can believe him or not. I don't want to put too much faith in that charm of his - I don't remember him being particularly gifted with them when we were at school.

"You'd better go," I say.

"You're sure you won't reconsider?" Weasley asks. "If you're worried about your parents, we could - "

"No," I say coldly.

Still he hesitates. "Malfoy," he starts, and I push past him, opening the door wide.

"I think I've given the Aurors sufficient time," I say loudly. "I trust you'll leave me alone now."

Weasley's eyes meet mine again as he passes through the doorway. "We might need to talk to you again," he says. "Are you staying here for long?"

I hope not. "How should I know?" I say. "If the Aurors need to get in touch with me - and I sincerely hope it will not be necessary - you can contact me at work."

Weasley looks startled. "You're going back?" he says.

I take a deep breath. "Yes," I say. I hadn't intended to, but it seems there's no other option.

**Harry**

"What's the big secret?" George demands, closing the door to the back room.

Ginny beams at him. "You are looking at the new Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies," she announces.

George stares. "You're not," he says in disbelief; then "But that's brilliant! Congratulations, Ginny - really well done! How'd you manage it?"

"Gwenog Jones saw me play at Hogwarts and she asked me to try out," Ginny explains. "So I did - and I made it."

"Gwenog Jones is scouting for players at Hogwarts?" George says with a groan. "Where the hell was she when I was at school?"

"You don't exactly qualify for the Harpies," I point out, grinning. "Not being a girl."

"I think she came to visit Slughorn or something," Ginny says vaguely. "It was just good luck that she happened to see the match."

"Luck or Oliver Wood," I say, remembering, but neither one of them's listening. Ginny's busy re-enacting her tryout for George's benefit.

"Now for the really scary part," George says, once she's finished. "Have you told Mum and Dad yet?"

"Er," Ginny says, and George bursts out laughing.

"Will we have a dress rehearsal?" he offers. "I can play Mum's part - I know exactly what she's going to say."

"So do I," Ginny says wearily. "She'll tell me I ought to finish out my seventh year - only I can't! The Harpies need me right away, because Leda Green's having a baby. She's going to be too big to fly pretty soon."

I didn't have any trouble picking Leda out at the tryouts. If you ask me, she's already reached the point of not being able to fly.

"Just get it over with," George counsels. "You're of age - she can't stop you."

"Want me to go with you?" I offer.

"Yes," Ginny admits. "But I think I'd better do it on my own, all the same."

I can't help feeling deeply relieved. "George is right," I say. "The longer you put it off, the worse it'll be."

"I can't put it off," Ginny reminds me. "I have to report January 2nd - and I'm getting fitted for my team robes tomorrow morning." She turns resolutely toward the door. "I'll go right now," she says firmly.

I catch up with her and put both arms around her. "Can you meet me for lunch tomorrow?" I ask.

Ginny nods. "I'll send a note with Amber when I'm through with my fitting," she promises. Amber's her new owl, named for the tawny color of her feathers.

I lean down to kiss her, letting her go reluctantly. "Good luck with Mum," George calls, and Ginny gives us both a half-smile before disappearing into the main part of the shop.

"Isn't Ron supposed to be here?" I ask.

"Funny you should mention that," George says, a little grimly. "I don't know where the hell he's got to - he was supposed to be here a half-hour ago."

"He might have got caught up at work," I say quickly.

"He might," George says agreeably. "Or he might have forgotten all about me and gone straight home to have dinner with Hermione. It's been known to happen."

"I could give you a hand," I offer. I haven't anything better to do, now that Ginny's gone home.

"Thanks," George says, looking relieved. "I could use some help restocking. We've been doing a lot of business with all those Hogwarts kids on holiday."

I notice he's still saying "we", but I don't correct him. It must be hard to get used to, being alone when you've always been one of a pair. "What do you want me to do?" I ask instead.

"Bring out another crate of love potions," George says promptly, grinning at me. "The fourth and fifth year girls really go for them."

"So I hear," I say, grinning back. "Mind you don't sell any to a girl called Romilda."

**Ron**

I feel like I'm going to be sick by the time I get out of Malfoy Manor. Just being in there again brought it all back. I could hardly concentrate on what Malfoy was saying - I kept remembering how it felt to hear Hermione screaming and not being able to get to her. I half-expected Greyback to leap out at us from behind one of the closed doors - or even Bellatrix, even though I know they're both dead. I remember Bellatrix holding her knife to Hermione's throat… the scar's faded, but you can still see it if you know where to look…

I wish I could have even five minutes to myself, but I'm under strict orders to return to Robards' office the second I've finished talking to Malfoy. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and Disapparate.

"Well?" Robards says, sounding almost eager for once. "Did you learn anything?"

I hesitate. I don't know what to tell him and what to leave out. I'm starting to think Hermione's right and we should've told him about that list straight off, but I can't exactly bring it up now, can I? At least, not without talking to Harry first.

"He was sort of talking in code," I say, after a minute. "He asked me did the Aurors think there were any Death Eaters still alive, and if we thought they were still in the Ministry. He mentioned his uncle Rodolphus specifically."

"He did?" Perdita says, leaning forward. "Did he mention any other names?"

I shake my head. "I think I might be able to find out, though," I offer.

Robards eyes me sharply. "How?" he demands.

Oops. "Er, Malfoy said he's coming back to work at the Ministry," I say, thinking quickly. "I could - er - arrange to bump into him in the lift and that sort of thing."

It sounds lame, even to me, and I'm not surprised when Robards lets out a dismissive snort. "We can place someone in the Broom Regulatory Control Office," he says to Perdita, ignoring me. "In any case, I'm reasonably sure of the identity of some of these people. It's the ones we don't know about that concern me."

Perdita turns back to me. "Anything else?" she asks hopefully.

"He as much as said he thinks Rodolphus was the one who killed Clarissa," I say. Robards nods impatiently. We sort of knew that already.

"Nothing else?" he says.

"It - it almost seemed like he wanted to tell me some things," I say. "Only he was afraid to say them, even after I'd done the _Muffliato_ Charm. Oh, and it didn't help that my Sneakoscope went off halfway through our conversation. He wouldn't say a word after that."

"Interesting," Robards says, nodding, but he doesn't say _why_ it's interesting. "Well, thank you, Mr. Weasley."

That's it? He's finished with me already? "Look," I say, gathering my courage. "I could probably have been a lot more help if I'd known what it was you wanted me to find out. Are you - are you looking for something in particular?" If he tells me what the thing is I'll tell him about the list - that's fair enough, isn't it?

"Yes," Robards says coolly. "However, that information is not for the ears of trainees. That will be all, Mr. Weasley."

Perdita smiles at me sympathetically. "You've done really well, Ron," she says. "I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

"Yeah, all right," I say, and leave. Well, he had his chance, didn't he? I can't help feeling a bit insulted.

It's nearly seven o'clock, and the Ministry's almost empty. Hermione'll be at home already. Suddenly I feel like I can't wait to see her and make sure she's safe. They could get to her just as easily as they did Clarissa, couldn't they? They've already nearly killed her once.

A few seconds later I'm bursting through the front door of Grimmauld Place. "Hermione," I call, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "Hermione, where are you?"

Hermione appears in the doorway of the sitting room and I wrap both arms around her, pulling her as close as I can. "For heaven's sake," Hermione says, hugging me back in a baffled manner. "What's got into you?"

I can't tell her where I was. "Nothing," I mumble, pulling her even closer. "I missed you, that's all."

"You just had lunch with me a few hours ago," Hermione points out, sounding amused. She pulls back so she can look up at me. "Ron, are you sure you feel all right? You look awfully pale."

"I'm fine," I say quickly. It's not enough just to hold her. I undo the top button of her shirt, pressing my mouth to the faint white line on her throat. "Come upstairs," I say against her neck.

Hermione giggles. "Before dinner?" she says. "I - well, all right."

I lean down and scoop her up into my arms. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Kreacher starting to come into the hallway. He takes one look at us and melts discreetly back into the kitchen. _Sorry, Kreacher - you'll have to put dinner off for a bit._

"Ron, you can't carry me up all those stairs," Hermione's protesting, but I can tell she likes it.

I wish I never had to put her down. "Course I can," I say, starting up. "You hardly weigh anything."

**Harry**

The sitting room's dark when I get home. Ron and Hermione must've gone to bed already. Kreacher hurries up to me, reaching for my cloak. "Kreacher's master is hungry?" he asks eagerly.

"Starving," I say. "Would you mind bringing me a sandwich or something?"

"Kreacher will fetch a tray right away for his master," Kreacher says happily, and vanishes.

I go into the sitting room, flicking my wand at the lamp. "Harry?" a voice says from behind me, and I turn to see Ron in his dressing gown.

"What're you doing up?" I ask.

"Couldn't sleep," Ron says briefly. "Harry, there's something I've got to tell you and - is that food?"

Whatever's wrong, it hasn't affected his appetite. Kreacher evades him neatly. "This is for Kreacher's master," he says sternly.

"I'll share," I say, amused. As usual, Kreacher's brought enough food for a small army. "Thanks, Kreacher."

Ron waits till the elf's disappeared before reaching for one of my sandwiches and dropping into a chair. "Where've you been?" he asks abruptly. "Out with Ginny?"

"I've been doing your job," I say. "Helping George."

Ron groans. "Bloody hell - I forgot all about George. I meant to stop by on my way home, but Malfoy Manor sort of knocked everything else out of my head."

I nearly choke on my sandwich. "What?" I say, coughing. "You were at Malfoy Manor?"

"Keep your voice down," Ron says nervously. "I don't want Hermione to know I was there."

"She's asleep, isn't she?" I say. "What the hell were you doing at Malfoy Manor?"

"Talking to Draco Malfoy," Ron says. "He finally agreed to talk to the Aurors, and - well, he asked for me."

"Start at the beginning," I say, hiding my astonishment. Why would Malfoy have asked for Ron, of all people?

He does, even going so far as to set his food aside to tell the story. I forget my own dinner as I listen. So Malfoy's ready to betray the Death Eaters at last - or is he? Did the Sneakoscope mean he was the untrustworthy person - or was someone else listening nearby?

"Anyway," Ron says, winding up at last. "I reckon that thing, whatever it is, must've dropped out of the envelope somewhere outside the Hogwarts library. So we're going to have to go back there and look for it."

Something stirs in my memory, but I can't quite get a grasp on whatever it is. "What'd you say to Robards?" I ask. "Did you tell him about the list?"

"Course not," Ron says indignantly. "Not without talking to you first. But I think maybe we ought to give it to him - if we can figure out a way to do it without getting ourselves in trouble."

I'm still not so sure the list is important. There weren't any names on there that Robards wouldn't already be watching. "What'd Hermione say?" I ask. "Or didn't you tell her that part either?"

"I didn't tell her any of it yet," Ron admits. "I'll have to think of a way to make it sound like I talked to Malfoy somewhere else."

"She's stronger than you think," I say, but Ron shakes his head.

"No offense, Harry, but you weren't there when she was having those nightmares," he says. "I don't want to be the one that makes them start up again." He gets to his feet, pacing restlessly from the sofa to the door and back again. "I feel as though I might have a nightmare of my own tonight," he says quietly, not looking at me. "You've no idea what it was like being back in that house, Harry."

"What house?" Hermione says from the doorway. 

**Hermione**

Ron and Harry both stare back at me, speechless. I move further into the room, holding Ron's eyes with mine. "What house?" I repeat.

Ron throws a desperate glance at Harry. "Hermione, wait till I tell you what Ginny did today," Harry says quickly. "She tried out for the Holyhead Harpies - and she made the team!"

"She did?" Ron says, distracted. "Wow, that's really - "

_Nice try, Harry._ "It was Malfoy Manor, wasn't it?" I whisper. "Why? Did - did something happen?"

Ron reaches me in two long steps. "Nothing happened," he says reassuringly. "Draco Malfoy asked to speak to someone from the Aurors, that's all."

"And they sent _you_?" I ask, before realizing how it sounds. "Sorry, I didn't mean - "

"No, that's what I thought at first, too," Ron says. "But Malfoy asked for me." He's got both arms around me now, urging me toward the sofa. "Come and sit down," he says coaxingly.

I stay where I am, even though my feet are freezing. I wish I'd thought to put my slippers on. "Exactly _when_ were you planning on telling me?" I ask.

Ron and Harry exchange glances again. "I was going to tell you," Ron says defensively. "Only - don't look at me like that, Hermione - I thought it might upset you. You know you've only just gotten over having those bad dreams."

Well, naturally I'm upset - but he still should have told me. "I knew something was wrong when you came home tonight," I say. "But I never thought - honestly, I'm surprised at Robards. Imagine making you go back there, after what happened to us in that place!"

"Well, he didn't know," Ron says reasonably. "Anyway, I'm an Auror, Hermione. I can't just avoid every place that makes me uncomfortable."

He nudges me toward the sofa again, and this time I give in. I settle myself against one end, tucking my cold feet under Ron's leg. "Why did Malfoy want to talk to you?" I ask, trying to gather my thoughts.

"He - ow, Hermione! Your feet are freezing!" Ron says.

"And whose fault is that?" I demand illogically.

"_Mine?_" Ron says incredulously. "Why the hell is that my fault?"

There's a muffled snort from Harry's chair. "He's going to work with us - we think," he says, sobering. "Unless that Sneakoscope meant him."

"Well, there wasn't anyone else there," Ron says.

"Start at the beginning and tell it properly," I say firmly. "What happened after you went back to the office after lunch?"

I listen in silence until he gets to the part about the Sneakoscope. "Wait," I say, holding up a hand. "Where were Lucius and Narcissa?"

"Out, I guess," Ron answers. "Malfoy said no one else was there."

"Lurleen must have been there," Harry reminds him.

Ron shrugs. "If she was, I didn't see her," he answers. "But I reckon she was probably around - Robards wouldn't have trusted me all on my own with this one."

There's a trace of bitterness in his voice. "Have you ever met this Lurleen?" I ask, laying my hand over his.

"I have," Harry says. "I know what you're thinking, Hermione, but - no. I don't think she's a Death Eater spy."

If she's a spy, she'd hardly go around acting like one, but I don't push it. "Then that leaves two possibilities," I say. "Either Malfoy was lying to you - or someone else was there."

"He wasn't lying," Ron says at once. "I don't have any reason to trust Malfoy, but he didn't seem like he was trying to put anything over on me. He seemed more - "

He hesitates. "More what?" Harry asks.

"Afraid," Ron says at last. "That's it. He was scared. Rodolphus killed his girlfriend and Malfoy thinks he might be next on account of he's lost this thing of Rodolphus's."

"The list?" I say, but Ron shakes his head.

"No, Malfoy knows we've got that," he says.

_What?_ "Go back to the bit with the Sneakoscope," I say patiently.

He does, and this time I let him finish. "I'm going to get that book," I say, starting to get up.

"I'll go," Ron says. "You stay here where it's warm."

"Get my slippers, too," I call after him.

Harry looks at me. "There wasn't anything else in that book," he says. "Or the envelope. We looked, remember?"

"I know, but it's something to do," I say. "Harry, if it's not there he must have dropped it at Hogwarts. It could still be lying under that table in the corridor outside the library."

"Or Filch could have swept it up and thrown it away," Harry reminds me. "We don't know what we're looking for - it could be disguised as any old piece of rubbish." He seems about to say more, but Ron reappears with the book.

"Here," he says, handing it to Harry. "Have a look if you want, but there's nothing else in there. And you, Hermione - give me your feet."

He's brought not only my slippers, but a pair of his own maroon socks for me. I sit like a child while he stuffs my feet clumsily into them. "Better?" he asks, and I nod. Ron settles back onto the sofa, pulling me against his side. "Any luck?" he says to Harry.

Harry shakes his head slowly. He's got the list out of the envelope again, reading it over. "There's no reason to turn this in," he says stubbornly. "Robards said he knew all the obvious ones already, didn't he?"

"He said it was the not-so-obvious ones he was worried about," Ron agrees. "And there aren't any of them on there."

I still think we ought to turn it in - but I'll admit it might be rather awkward at this stage. "But if we find it," I say. "The thing - oh, I wish we knew what we were looking for! It sounds silly to go on calling it "the thing" all the time."

"The object," Ron says, grinning at me. "The item."

"If we find it, we're turning it in to Robards at once," I say, ignoring him. "Agreed?"

Harry and Ron look at each other. "All right," Harry says finally. "But I think we'd better plan a trip to Hogwarts as soon as possible."

We talk for a bit longer, but we don't seem to be getting anywhere and it's late. "Might as well get some sleep," Harry says, yawning, and Ron and I both agree.

"Hermione?" Ron asks, once we're back in bed. "You're not going to have any nightmares, are you?"

Honestly - as though I could tell in advance. "I don't think so," I say hopefully. "I hate it that you had to go there, but - well, it can't hurt us now. It's all in the past, isn't it?" All the same, I don't quite feel comfortable trying to sleep just yet.

"Did you go and see Kingsley today?" Ron asks. It's a clear attempt to distract me, but I welcome it.

"Yes," I say, relieved to have something else to think about. "He liked my manual - he said he'd try to get it through the Wizengamut, but that it might take awhile." Deliberately I leave out the part about Kingsley saying he'd like to have me in Magical Law. It can't happen, so what's the point?

"Good for you," Ron says, sleepy but proud. "Didn't I tell you?"

I start to answer, but he's asleep. I press myself close against his side and manage to finally drift off by remembering one of Professor Binns' lectures.

When I do have the dream, it's different. It's not me being tortured this time, but Ron - and it's Draco Malfoy holding the knife to his throat. I wake up gasping and sobbing.

"It's just a dream," Ron says, cuddling me. "Anyway, I'm right here - I'll look after you."

"Ron, you mustn't trust Malfoy," I whisper, scarcely aware of what I'm saying. "I don't believe he's really on our side."

"I'm not sure if I do, either," Ron says. "But right now he's all we've got."

**Harry**

"Well, how was it?" I ask, facing Ginny across the table.

"About the way you think it was," Ginny says, shrugging. "Dad was awfully pleased, even though he didn't quite dare to say so till Mum had run down a bit. I think he quite fancies having a daughter who can get him tickets to all the really good matches."

"But she's all right with it now?" I ask.

"Well - sort of," Ginny says. "She had quite a lot to say about the fact that only her three oldest children managed to make it all the way through school - and of course, you and Hermione didn't finish either, so she had to throw that in as well."

"Hermione and I aren't her children," I point out.

"Tell _her_ that!" Ginny says. "She thinks you are. Anyway, she finally agreed that this was a really big chance for me - even though she doesn't quite understand why Gwenog can't hold the place for me till June."

I grin at her sympathetically. "Well, Quidditch was never really your mum's thing," I say.

"Anyway, it's over," Ginny says, looking relieved. "Well, almost - I still have to go and see McGonagall this afternoon and tell her I'm not coming back."

"You could just send an owl," I suggest, but Ginny shakes her head.

"I feel like I ought to tell her in person," she says. "Anyway, I left some of my clothes and things in the dormitory. I didn't want to pack everything, just in case." She smiles at me. "Want to come with me?"

"Yeah," I say, surprising her. "As a matter of fact, I'd like to see McGonagall and Hagrid." And I can have a good look around the library floor while Ginny's packing her trunk.

"Maybe I ought to be an Auror instead of a Quidditch player," Ginny says teasingly. "You certainly get lots of time off. Don't they mind?"

"Well, it's New Year's Eve," I say. "And anyway, Robards told me to find something to occupy myself with this afternoon, since he's going to be busy. He never said I couldn't occupy myself with you."

"My sort of boss," Ginny says, giggling. "What's he so busy with?"

"No idea," I say lightly. But I can guess.

Hagrid, opening the gate to us several minutes later, is delighted to see both of us.

"Harry!" he exclaims, giving me a pat on the shoulder that nearly sends me into a snowbank. "Now that's what I call a proper New Year's present, seein' yeh! And Ginny - missed bein' at school, did yeh? Back two days early an' all…"

"I'm not exactly back," Ginny says. "Hagrid, I've made the Holyhead Harpies! I have my first practice with them the day after tomorrow."

"Did yeh, now!" Hagrid says, beaming at her. "Well, I always knew yeh were a star player. I'm going to miss yeh though - it's hard to believe there won't be any more Weasleys at Hogwarts after this."

"No more Weasleys at Hogwarts," Ginny repeats with a sigh, as we walk toward the castle. "It sounds a bit sad, doesn't it?"

"Probably not to Filch," I point out, and Ginny laughs. "Anyway, give it a few years - there'll be plenty of Weasleys back here."

Professor McGonagall's expecting us - I sent a Patronus - so I'm not surprised to find her waiting in the hall when we get there. I am a bit taken aback though, when she hugs me instead of offering the handshake I'd been expecting.

"We teachers are allowed to be fond of our students after they've left school," McGonagall says dryly. "Even those of you who left without finishing."

"Er," Ginny says nervously. "Speaking of not finishing…"

With McGonagall's eye on her, she finally manages to get it out. McGonagall, however, is delighted with the news.

"The Harpies are an excellent team," she says approvingly. "And Gwenog was always a most accomplished player - although I'm afraid I can't say the same about her work in Transfiguration."

"So you don't mind?" Ginny asks hopefully.

McGonagall sighs. "It's a wonderful opportunity," she says. "And I quite understand that you need to accept it. All the same, my dear, I will miss you." She straightens suddenly, as if she thinks she's been too sentimental. "And I'll miss having the Quidditch Cup in my study, too," she adds briskly.

"You won't, either," Ginny says firmly. "The Gryffindor team's good enough to win without me. And I think Demelza would make a brilliant Captain."

We end up having tea in McGonagall's study. I look hopefully at Dumbledore's portrait, but he sleeps through our whole visit. _Well, what did you think he could tell you?_ I ask myself. _He wasn't here when Rodolphus gave that envelope to Malfoy - or when Malfoy lost it._

"I'd better go and get my things packed," Ginny says, as McGonagall's door closes behind us. "Want to wait for me in the Common Room?"

"I'll meet you there," I say, deliberately vague. "I'd like to have a look round, long as we're here."

"Don't get lost," Ginny warns, looking at her watch. "We've got Seamus's party tonight."

"Half an hour," I promise, kissing her. I wait till she's started in the direction of Gryffindor Tower before heading toward the library. I still don't know what I'm looking for - I just hope it's there.

I can see at a glance that the table's gone - and the floor outside the library's been swept clean. I bend down, scanning it closely to make sure. There's something shiny in the corner, wedged up against the wall…

"Well, if it isn't the famous Harry Potter!" a voice says from behind me. "Didn't you have enough of sneaking about the school when you were a student here?"

Filch - just what I didn't need. I make a desperate grab at the shiny thing and stuff it into my pocket without looking at it.

Filch is staring at me, a suspicious look on his face. "And what, if I may ask, are you doing here?" he demands. "You don't belong at Hogwarts anymore."

Doesn't Filch trust me _yet_? What the hell do I have to do to win him over, anyway? "I came to see Professor McGonagall," I say impatiently.

"And you thought you'd find her down there in the corner, did you?" Filch says sarcastically. "Never thought to try her office, I suppose?"

"I've seen her already," I say. "I was on my way out."

"The front door's that way," Filch says, pointing.

I suppose I could argue the point with him - after all, I've a perfect right to be here as long as McGonagall says it's all right - but there's no reason to linger. There's nothing here - unless the shiny object in my pocket turns out to be Rodolphus's mysterious thing. I turn abruptly without another word and start obediently in the direction of the stairs.

I make sure Filch hasn't followed me before heading up instead of down. I stop outside the entrance to the Common Room, remembering abruptly that I never asked Ginny for the password. "I don't suppose you'd make an exception just this once?" I say hopefully to the Fat Lady.

I'm prepared for a no, but to my surprise she beams at me and moves aside. "Mind you don't tell anyone," she whispers conspiratorially. "But if there's anyone I'll make an exception for, it's Harry Potter!"

"Thanks," I say gratefully, climbing through.

There's no sign of Ginny, but two first-year boys interrupt their game of Exploding Snap to give me round-eyed stares.

"Er, hello," I say, wondering if Ron and I ever looked that small. "Don't mind me - I'm just waiting for my girlfriend."

The boys exchange glances. "Are you Harry Potter?" one of them blurts, blushing.

"Yeah," I say, trying to smile. I wish Ginny would hurry up.

The two boys whisper to each other by the fire, stealing surreptitious looks at me. I slide my left hand nonchalantly into my pocket and touch the object I picked up from the floor. It's round, and it feels like metal. Slowly, I pull it out…

"Ready at last!" Ginny says from the top of the stairs. I duck out of the way as her trunk comes zooming down.

"Just one more bag," Ginny says cheerfully. "I - oh, thanks, Lydia."

A girl I vaguely recognize as having been in the year behind Ginny's hands her a bulging rucksack. "Harry, you remember Lydia," Ginny prompts.

"Yeah, sure I do," I lie, shaking hands.

"Ginny's been telling me about the Harpies," Lydia says enviously. "I wish I could do something like that - only I suppose they'd never have me, since I can't stay on a broom for more than five minutes." She laughs, and Ginny and I both join her.

"How much stuff have you got?" I demand, picking up the rucksack. "I thought you brought most of it home."

"So did I," Ginny says airily. "There was a bit more than I thought. Well, goodbye, Lydia - enjoy the last two days of your holidays."

"I'll be glad when school starts again," Lydia says. "It's been a bit quiet this year. Professor McGonagall let me go into Hogsmeade with her yesterday, though - that was a nice change." She frowns slightly. "You know, it was the oddest thing," she adds. "You remember Dennis Creevey, don't you?"

I don't dare look at Ginny as I nod. "I almost thought I saw him in Hogsmeade yesterday," Lydia says. "I was quite sure it was him - I nearly called out to him - but then the boy turned his head and I saw it wasn't Dennis at all. I don't know what made me think of him, after all this time."

"Well, they say everyone's got a double," Ginny says. She points her wand at her trunk, directing it carefully through the portrait hole.

"Happy New Year!" I say to the room at large, and follow her hastily.

"What've you got there?" Ginny asks, looking at my clenched hand. I open it and look down.

"Nothing," I say, groaning inwardly. "Just a button I picked up. It must have fallen off someone's coat."

"Well, don't throw it away," Ginny says, holding out her hand for it. "I'll put it in Mum's sewing basket - she's always looking for buttons. Harry, what do you think about what Lydia said?"

"Not here," I say quickly. "Wait till we get home."

**Ron**

"Thanks," George says. "But I think I'll pass."

"Ah, go on, George," I say. "It's New Year's Eve. What are you going to do - just hang out here by yourself all night?"

George shrugs. "When you get to be my age, New Year's Eve isn't such a big deal anymore," he says.

He's twenty, not eighty. Hermione's giving me a _leave-it-alone_ look, but I've got to have one more go. "Just come for a bit," I say. "If you hate it, you can leave."

"I'm not in the mood for a big crowd of people," George says stubbornly. He looks past me at Hermione. "You look really nice, though," he says to her.

She ought to - she and Ginny spent about three hours getting ready together. I wouldn't have minded, except they kicked me out of my own bedroom so they could get dressed in there. George is right, though - Hermione looks really good tonight.

"Thanks," Hermione says, pleased. She tugs at my arm. "Come on, Ron. If George doesn't feel like going, that's up to him." She starts toward the door.

"Better keep an eye on her," George whispers teasingly. He grins at me. "I heard the whole Puddlemere United team's showing up with Oliver. Quidditch players always seem to go for Hermione, don't they?"

I look over at Hermione, waiting impatiently by the door. I find myself thinking that maybe she looks a little _too_ good, even though I know George is just trying to wind me up.

"Well, come and join us later if you change your mind," I say, giving up. "You know where it is?"

"It's pretty hard to miss," George says. "There aren't many establishments called 'Amortentia' in Diagon Alley."

I hadn't known that. "It's not," I protest, half-laughing. Amortentia? What a stupid name - I'll bet it was Lavender's idea. Unless George is making it up.

He's not, though. I can see the sign glowing from halfway down the block - and I can hear the music way before that.

"I hope Seamus doesn't get complaints," Hermione says worriedly.

"It's New Year's Eve," I point out. "Anyway, the people who live on this street are wizards, remember? They can do a Silencing Charm if they don't like it." I catch sight of Harry and Ginny, standing in front of the entrance with Neville and Hannah. I wonder if Neville and Hannah are on a date or not - it's pretty hard to tell with Neville - and turn to ask Hermione, but they're already hurrying toward us.

"Any luck with George?" Ginny asks me in a low voice, and I shake my head. Ginny turns away, disappointed, and slips her hand into Harry's.

"Let's go in," Harry says quickly. "It's freezing out here."

Inside, the music's louder than ever, and some sort of weird lights are flashing over what looks like the dance floor. "I can't believe it," Hermione says in my ear, looking amused. "He's got a strobe light. Only I suppose it isn't one - not a Muggle one, anyway."

"A what?" I ask, confused, but she can't hear me over the music. I can see what looks like a bar through a set of double doors. "Let's go get a drink," I say.

The music's a lot fainter in the bar, but it's packed with people. I recognize a lot of them, but there are just as many strangers. It looks like half of wizarding London's shown up here tonight.

"There's Seamus," Hermione says. "And that must be his cousin Fergus with him."

I look over and see Seamus standing with Lavender and a bloke who looks just like him. He sees us and comes hurrying over. "Ron! Hermione!" he says, shaking our hands. "Thanks for coming. Have you got drinks? Here, you - " he motions to a harried-looking barman - "Get them some champagne. So what do you think?" He spreads his arms, looking around happily.

"It's brilliant," I say. "The lights are really - "

Seamus isn't listening. "Here," he says, handing us two brimming glasses of champagne. "Drink up!"

"Isn't it wonderful?" Lavender says proudly. "I thought of the name."

I knew it. "Yeah, it's great," I say, managing not to laugh.

Lavender steps closer to us to avoid being trampled by a group of men in matching jerseys - Puddlemere United, I'll bet - and I catch a wave of heavy perfume. I put my arms round Hermione from behind and bury my face in her neck to avoid the smell. Hermione smells like vanilla, like a proper girl. If the perfume-makers had any sense, they'd make more of the sort of perfume I bought Hermione and less of the sort Lavender's got on. I mean, you offer any man the choice between a bouquet of roses or a plate of teacakes and see which one he chooses.

"What _are_ you doing?" Hermione whispers.

"Smelling you," I whisper back truthfully. "So I don't have to smell Lavender."

"You're so ridiculous sometimes," Hermione says, but she sounds pleased. "Lovely perfume," she says politely to Lavender.

"It's called 'Exotic Enchantment'," Lavender says, preening. "Seamus gave it to me for Christmas."

Sounds like Seamus subscribes to the _Daily Prophet_, doesn't it? "What'd Ron give you, Hermione?" Lavender asks, sounding a little superior. I'll bet she's remembering that I only gave her a box of chocolates the Christmas we were going out. She wasn't best-pleased at the time, even though they were Honeydukes' best.

"This," Hermione says, holding out her left hand.

"Ooh, you're engaged!" Parvati Patil shrieks, appearing out of nowhere on Lavender's other side. "Congratulations - you two are the first of all of us!"

"Yeah, congratulations," Seamus says, looking trapped. Lavender eyes him thoughtfully.

"Come and say hi to Harry," I say, helping him out. "He and Ginny are in the other room with Hannah and Neville."

Hermione's surrounded by a group of girls demanding to see her ring. "All right?" I mouth, and she nods.

"Come on," Seamus says hastily, and starts out of the bar almost at a run. I try to catch a look at his neck to see if he's wearing a chain that says "My Sweetheart," but if he is, he's keeping it well-hidden. Wise decision, if you ask me.

Seamus stops dead in the doorway and I nearly crash into him. "What?" I say, draining my champagne glass before I can spill any more of it.

"Look who just walked in," Seamus says grimly.

Oh, bloody hell. It's Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. I was hoping we could forget about Malfoy, just for this one night. "I'm throwing them out," Seamus is saying furiously. "I'm not having any Death Eaters in my club." He starts toward them purposefully.

"Wait," I say, grabbing his arm. I look around wildly for Harry and see him and Neville hurrying toward us.

"Did you see who's here?" Neville says. Funny, he doesn't sound scared the way he would have done in the old days. "Will we chuck them out for you, Seamus?"

"No," Harry says sharply. "Let me and Ron handle it."

"I don't need help from the Aurors on this one," Seamus says. "It's my club, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's your club, but you're messing up _our_ investigation," Harry says mildly. "Just let us have a quick word, all right?"

The word "investigation" seems to calm Seamus down. "Are you going to arrest them?" he asks eagerly.

Arrest them for what - showing up at his club? "Come on," Harry says to me. "Neville, you stay here with Seamus, all right?" He starts off without waiting for an answer.

"You know," I say, catching up to Harry. "I've really had about enough of Draco Malfoy lately."

Harry grins at me. "Can't seem to get rid of him, can we?" he says.

Malfoy and Zabini are both watching us approach. Malfoy looks a bit nervous, but Zabini seems like he's bored by the whole thing.

**Draco**

"I can't think of any place I'd rather spend New Year's Eve in _less_," I say, glaring at Zabini. "Why have we got to go there?"

Zabini shrugs. "I thought it might be amusing," he says, but he's not fooling me. "We don't need to stay long."

So whatever he's got planned isn't going to take very long. "Then what?" I ask guardedly.

"Then we'll go to Warrington's flat," Zabini says. "He's having a party tonight. Are you coming? I told the others we'd meet them at eight and it's nearly half past."

"What others?" I demand, but Zabini's already Disapparating. It'd better not be Pansy.

It is, of course. And not just her - I recognize Nott, Flint, Tracy Davis, Daphne Greengrass, a girl who I think is Daphne's little sister, and a few assorted others. Most of them greet me like nothing's happened. Daphne's little sister stares at me with wide blue eyes, too shy to open her mouth.

"Ready?" Zabini says, not apologizing for being late. "I thought we'd start off at Finnegan's new club. Be interesting to see what he and his idiot cousin came up with."

"I'm not going there," Nott says quickly. "Finnegan's pretty tight with Potter and that lot."

"Are you afraid of Potter?" Zabini says, raising his eyebrows. "Surely not. After all, none of us are _Death Eaters_, are we?" He smiles mockingly, and the others all smirk.

"I'm not afraid of him," Nott says, looking away. "I just don't want to go there, that's all."

"I can't take Astoria there, anyway," Daphne says, frowning at Zabini. "She's not seventeen yet."

"What did you bring her for, then?" Zabini says dismissively. He's not interested in sixteen year old girls.

Astoria's face falls, and I feel briefly sorry for her. Zabini didn't have to say it like that. "It's all right," I say, more to Astoria than the others. "Zabini and I are just going to check the place out. We can meet up with you at Warrington's party."

"I'll go with you and Blaise, Draco," Pansy says, pressing up against my side. She smiles up at me like nothing's changed between us. "I haven't seen you in ages."

"Whose fault is that?" I say coldly, moving away.

Pansy follows me. "Don't be mad at me," she says coaxingly. "My parents said we'd better not write to each other until - er - "

Until they knew whether Father was going to Azkaban or not. "But it's all right now," Pansy's saying, looking a bit flustered. "So we can be friends again."

"Go with the other girls, Pansy," I say, turning my back on her. I wouldn't touch her now for anything. Clarissa was worth ten of her.

Pansy flounces off, and I turn to Zabini. "Let's get it over with," I say between my teeth.

The first sight of Finnegan's club does nothing to improve my mood. "Amortentia?" I say. "Oh, please."

"Not a bad name, actually," Zabini says thoughtfully. "For this sort of place, I mean." He gestures disparagingly at the door. "I don't generally care for these clubs, but I've found they're a good place to pick up girls. There's no need to bother with chatting them up - in fact, you can't, because the music's too loud - so I just smile mysteriously and let them buy me drinks."

I laugh - I can't help it. Zabini's a bastard, but he's definitely an amusing one. "Have we really got to go in?" I say.

"I'm afraid so," Zabini says, opening the door.

Between the noise and the flashing lights, I feel disoriented for a minute. Then my vision clears and I notice several people staring at us and whispering to each other. Some of them look decidedly unfriendly.

"I don't think we're too popular with this crowd," I say in Zabini's ear.

Zabini shrugs. "Like I care what a bunch of Mudbloods and blood traitors think of me," he says. "Anyway, this won't take long. Why don't we go get a drink and - "

"Here comes Potter," I say. "_And_ Weasley." I don't want to speak to either of them, but there's no way to avoid it - they're coming straight toward us. I wonder briefly if Weasley told Potter what I said to him; then realize that of course he did. He probably told his Mudblood girlfriend, too. I turn desperately to Zabini, but he's melted away, leaving me on my own to face them.

"Potter," I say, nodding coldly. "Weasley."

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Potter says, managing to keep his voice calm.

"Why not?" I say bravely. "I've got a perfect right to be here."

"Actually, you don't," Weasley says, taking a step closer to me. "It's Seamus's club, and he doesn't want you or Zabini here."

"So why doesn't he throw us out himself?" I ask. "No, wait - let me guess. He wouldn't be _afraid_, would he?"

"There's not one person here who's afraid of you or Zabini!" Weasley says hotly, putting a hand on his wand.

I'm tempted to say "prove it," but before I can open my mouth, Potter's speaking. "Tell him," he says to Weasley. Weasley - as usual - looks blank. "About today," Potter says meaningfully.

"Oh, that," Weasley says. He turns to me. "It wasn't there," he tells me. "You know - what you thought you dropped?"

They've been to Hogwarts to look already? "It has to be there," I say wildly. "Did you look in the - did you _look_?"

"There was nothing there," Weasley repeats stubbornly. "Can you think of anyplace else you might have lost it?"

"Do that charm again," I say, looking around nervously.

Weasley laughs scornfully. "Nobody's going to hear us in here," he says.

He's got a point, but I'd still feel better. Actually… "Potter, you do it," I say. I've got a bit more faith in his skills than I do in Weasley's.

Potter shrugs. He pulls out his wand and waves it around us, muttering something. I try to catch the word - it'd be quite a handy spell to know, wouldn't it? - but it's impossible to hear him properly in here.

"All right," I say, stepping closer. "I could have dropped it outside somewhere. Anyplace between the path to Hogsmeade and the castle."

"That's miles," Weasley protests, looking dismayed. "And it's bloody snowed about ten times since then. How are we supposed to find anything now?"

"It's not _miles_," Potter says, looking amused. "But you're right about the snow." His smile fades as he looks at me. "It'd help if we had any idea what we were looking for."

"If I knew, I'd tell you," I say. "All I know is that it wasn't very big."

"Oh, cheers," Weasley says sarcastically. "That's a huge help."

"Okay," Potter says. "We'll do what we can. Now, suppose you tell us what you're really doing here?"

The question takes me by surprise. "Nothing," I say hastily. "Zabini thought it'd be a good place to pick up girls, that's all. We weren't planning to stay long."

"Here comes Zabini now," Potter says, looking past me. "He doesn't seem to have had much luck with the girls."

"Maybe you'd better leave," Weasley says. He's not quite threatening me, but he's close. "I don't think either one of you are going to have much luck in here tonight."

Zabini catches my eye and nods toward the door. Whatever he - or they - had planned must not be going to happen, then. I feel a wave of relief that almost makes my knees weak. "This place is lame, anyway," I say, turning away from them.

"What the hell?" I demand, as soon as we're outside.

Zabini shrugs, looking inscrutable. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says blandly. "I had a look round, decided it wasn't worth the bother, and we left. End of story."

Like hell it is. But he's not going to tell me any more. Zabini's like that. "Fine," I say, giving up. "I think I might just go home. I'm not much in the mood for Warrington's."

Zabini shakes his head regretfully. "The girls will be disappointed," he says, but he doesn't try to stop me from Disapparating.

**Hermione**

"But you must have _some_ ideas about a wedding," Parvati's saying, looking appalled. "You can't just throw everything together at the last minute, Hermione."

She sounds like Mum. "We just want something small and quiet," I say vaguely. "Anyway, it's not till next year."

"I've had _my_ wedding planned since I was a little girl," Lavender says reprovingly. "I want everything to be pink, even the tent. And we'll serve pink champagne, of course."

I try to picture Ron's probable reaction if I suggested an all-pink wedding and have to look away to keep from laughing. "Tell me what you two have been doing lately," I say, in an effort to change the subject.

They both start talking at once, but my attention's caught by a girl who looks familiar. It's Miranda, isn't it? And who's that talking to her?

"That's Blaise Zabini!" Parvati says indignantly, following my gaze. "What's he doing in here?"

"I'm going to tell Seamus," Lavender says importantly. "He'll throw him right out!" She peers closer. "Who's that he's talking to?"

"It's Miranda, from my office," I say worriedly. "She can't know who he is - she wasn't at school with us." Zabini's moving in closer - he's almost got her pinned against the wall. I get to my feet and start over to them. "Miranda!" I call, waving.

Zabini glances over at me, then turns and says something to Miranda. She responds sharply and he steps back, looking startled. Miranda stalks away without a backward look.

"Thanks, Hermione," she says, grinning at me. "He kept wanting to buy me a drink, and he wasn't about to take no for an answer."

I'll bet he said something horrible about me, too, but Miranda's far to nice to repeat it. Anyway, it looked like she defended me, didn't it? "He's a good person to stay away from," I say firmly. I glance over at the spot where Zabini was, but he's already vanished into the crowd. Well, Lavender's bound to warn Seamus about him.

"He was too young for me, anyway," Miranda says.

Miranda's not that much older than I am, but I suppose it might make a difference. "Where's your boyfriend?" I ask. "I thought you were going out with him tonight."

"I am," Miranda says. "He's meeting me here later. I just wanted to get here a bit early so I could check this place out on my own first." She looks me over. "That dress does suit you, Hermione. Aren't you glad I talked you into buying it?"

"Well, Ron certainly is," I say, and we both laugh. And where is Ron, anyway? He's been gone for ages.

"I'm getting a drink," Miranda says. "Coming?"

"No, I'm all right," I say, a bit distractedly. "I'll see you later." I watch as she disappears in the direction of the bar. I can't imagine coming to a place like this on my own. Maybe the age thing does make a difference after all.

"_There_ you are," Ron says from behind me. Honestly. He makes it sound as though I was the one that took off.

"Blaise Zabini was here," I say, slipping my hand into his.

"So was Malfoy," Ron says. "They've both gone, though."

Malfoy, too? "Why?" I ask suspiciously, and Ron shrugs.

"Dunno, exactly," he admits. "But Harry and I kept Malfoy from getting past the entrance - and Ginny followed Zabini for us. She said he didn't do anything except try to chat up some girl."

"That was Miranda," I say, amused. "He didn't get far, I can tell you."

"Good for Miranda," Ron says. "Where is she? I want to buy her a drink for that."

We fight our way through the crowd to the bar, but Miranda's nowhere to be seen. "Have you seen a girl in a green dress?" I ask the barman.

"About a dozen of them," he answers, shrugging. "Care to try our house specialty? It's called the Love Potion." He holds up a glass full of violently pink liquid.

"No, thanks," Ron says hastily, looking appalled.

"It's not a real love potion," the barman says. "It's just red currant syrup mixed with mead and a little cherry soda."

"That sounds even worse," Ron says firmly. "We'll take two champagnes."

The barman grins as he reaches for the bottle. "Can't say as I blame you," he admits. "But the owner's girlfriend thought it up, so I've got to offer it to everybody."

It goes with Lavender's all-pink theme, doesn't it? "We could serve it at our wedding," I say to Ron.

"_What?_" Ron says. "Hey, there's George!"

I turn just in time to see George leading Angelina Johnson into the room. I wonder if she went and fetched him, or if they just happened to meet up on the way in. Angelina'd be good for George, wouldn't she?

"How do you like that?" Ron says disgustedly. "He told us he was staying in; then he lets Angelina talk him into coming."

"Never mind," I say. "Let's go and dance." 

**Harry**

They're playing a slow song now, and Ginny moves closer to me, leaning her head on my shoulder. "Harry?" she whispers seductively. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," I say, pulling her closer still.

"What were Malfoy and Zabini really doing here?" Ginny asks. "And don't try to tell me you don't know, because I'm sure you do."

Okay, _not_ the question I was expecting. "I really don't know," I say honestly. "There's something going on with Malfoy, but I don't know how Zabini's mixed up in it - if he is. And you said he didn't do anything except hit on some girl."

"It was more than one," Ginny corrects me. "But he didn't get far with any of them. You'd think he'd know it wasn't any use in a place like this."

"Zabini's always been pretty stuck on himself," I say absently, but she's right. Why would Zabini think he'd get anywhere in a club mostly filled with former D.A. members?

"He's an awful snob, too," Ginny says. "He kept looking around like no one here was good enough for him."

Her words take me back, suddenly, to another time when I saw Zabini in a bar. He was leaning against the wall looking, as Ginny said, like no one there was good enough for him. It was in the Three Broomsticks, and it was the same day that someone Imperiused Rosmerta to make her give Katie Bell a poisoned necklace. "You're sure he didn't speak to anyone else?" I ask abruptly. "You didn't see him give anything to anyone, or do any sort of spell?"

"No," Ginny answers, sounding surprised. "He never took his wand out of his pocket. Why?"

But it wasn't Zabini who Imperiused Rosmerta, was it? Malfoy'd already done that part, and he was giving her orders through that coin. Zabini must have just been his lookout. So was he repeating his role tonight? Playing lookout for someone (Malfoy?) again?

"Why?" Ginny repeats.

"Just double-checking," I say quickly. The song's ending. "Do you feel like taking a walk around?"

Ginny leans back so she can look at me. "I will if you tell me what I'm supposed to be looking for," she bargains.

"Anyone who doesn't fit in," I say. "And you might point out the girls Zabini was trying to flirt with."

"Well, Hermione knows one of them," Ginny says. "I saw them talking. But I think I'd recognize the others."

I glance around, looking for Hermione and Ron. I finally spot them, swaying close together in a dark corner of the dance floor.

"The song's over and they haven't even noticed," Ginny says, amused. "Do you want to ask them to come with us?"

They don't look like they'd be much use, do they? "No," I say, grinning. "I don't want to interrupt."

"Ron would interrupt _us_ without thinking twice about it," Ginny points out, but she follows me off the dance floor. "Where do you want to start?"

We circle the club three times without spotting anything that seems out of the way. "That's one of the girls, I think," Ginny says, grabbing my arm. "See the one in the red dress talking to Dean?"

We make our way over. "I know what I want to paint on one wall," Dean's saying. "But I keep changing my mind about the others. I - Harry! I thought I might see you and Ginny here tonight. This is my sister, Amanda."

Dean's sister? Well, she's definitely no Death Eater. She's a Muggle, as far as I know. I shake hands, wondering what she makes of all this. It has to be a bit of a shock, but she looks like she's enjoying herself.

"Whose walls are you painting?" Ginny asks curiously.

"It's for the Ministry," Dean explains. "They want murals painted on the walls in that café place."

"Your prime minister - or whatever you call him - wrote to Dean himself," Amanda says proudly. "He saw some of his drawings somewhere and thought he'd be the perfect one for the job."

Dean looks slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, well, I hope I don't prove him wrong," he says.

"You might do the London skyline like the one you painted in the kitchen at home," Amanda offers. She grins at us. "He was only nine at the time - Mum was furious at first, but after a while she grew to like it."

"I've got something else in mind," Dean says. He looks at me speculatively, and I know what's coming.

"Forget it," I say firmly.

"Ah, go on, Harry," Dean argues. "I'd like to do one of you facing down Voldemort. It'd be spectacular - just picture it!"

I can, only too clearly. I'd be too embarrassed to ever eat in the Ministry Cafe again if that was on the wall.

"Why not do a couple of dragons?" Ginny suggests, breaking off her conversation with Amanda. "Like the ones we had at the TriWizard Tournament. They're spectacular enough."

"Dragons?" Amanda asks, wide-eyed. "You mean - they're _real_?"

I know how she feels. "Yeah," I say, almost apologetically. "They're not all that friendly, though. You probably don't want to see one in person."

Dean looks past me, focusing on something in the distance. "Dragons," he says thoughtfully.

It seems like a good time to move on. "Amanda said Zabini started to speak to her, and then all of a sudden he turned and walked away," Ginny reports, as soon as we're a few steps away. "She thought maybe he mistook her for someone else, but I have a feeling he suddenly realized she was a Muggle."

"Well, that's one down," I say. "Do you see any of the other girls Zabini talked to anywhere?"

Ginny shakes her head. "It's nearly midnight," she says, glancing at her watch. "Shall we get some champagne and try to find the others?"

"I guess so," I say. All of a sudden this isn't where I want to be at midnight. I want to take Ginny someplace where I can kiss her properly - not the middle of a crowded bar with half the world looking on.

"Or," Ginny says, seeming to read my mind, "We could go back to Grimmauld Place and have a glass all by ourselves in front of the fire."

"We could," I say, slipping my arm around her. "Want to say goodbye to anyone, or just go?"

Ginny considers. "I'll get Hermione on her own and tell her," she decides. "I want to make sure she keeps Ron out _really_ late."

**Ron**

"Are you going to sleep all day?" Hermione says, pulling the curtains back. "It's nearly eleven."

"And we didn't get to bed till late," I try to say, but my voice sounds more like a croak. "Close the curtains, yeah?"

Hermione eyes me. "You shouldn't have had that third glass of champagne," she says briskly. "I did warn you."

It wasn't exactly my third - just the third in front of her - but Hermione doesn't need to know that, does she? "There's no reason to get up," I say instead, closing my eyes. "We've both got the day off. Why don't you come back to bed for a bit?"

"Because we've got to go to Hogsmeade," Hermione says.

I open my eyes again and give her a suspicious look. "Why have we got to go to Hogsmeade?" I ask, but I already know the answer. "We're not going to find anything, Hermione! The ground's covered with snow and we don't even know what the hell we're looking for!"

Hermione sighs. "I know," she admits, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "But I can't think of anything else, can you? And I thought I might buy a new copy of _Fantastic Beasts_ and bring it to Madam Pince. It'd be a good excuse to get into the library and look around."

Thinks of everything, doesn't she? Or almost. "It's New Year's Day," I point out. "All the shops are closed. Where are you going to buy a book?"

Hermione looks taken aback, but only for a second. "Then I'll give her my copy," she says. "It's in perfect condition."

Of course it is. Well, it might be sort of fun to go to Hogsmeade. "All right," I say, giving in. "But I want my breakfast first."

"We can have lunch at the Three Broomsticks instead," Hermione says firmly.

She's waiting in the sitting room with Harry and Ginny when I finally make it downstairs. I wonder briefly if Ginny spent the night here; then decide I'd rather not know. She and Harry look pretty cozy by the fire. Hermione sees me in the doorway and gets up quickly.

"We'll see you at the Burrow for dinner," she calls over her shoulder. "Come _on_, Ron - honestly, I thought you'd never be ready."

"Look who's talking," I say. "It didn't take _me_ three hours to get dressed last night." I look back toward the sitting room. "Aren't they coming with us?"

"No," Hermione says. "They're going to see Andromeda and Teddy."

I can't help being a bit resentful - it sounds a lot more comfortable than shuffling along a cold snowy path looking for who-knows-what on the ground - but I reckon it'd be a bit difficult to explain what we were doing to Ginny. Unless Harry's already told her everything, but somehow I don't think he has.

"Harry thought it might look suspicious if they showed up there two days in a row," Hermione says under her breath, as I open the front door.

I thought it was cold in London, but it's ten times worse in Hogsmeade. "Where should we go first?" Hermione asks. "Maybe we'd better look along the path before it gets any colder."

"I'll be much better at looking if I get something to eat first," I say, tugging her in the direction of the Three Broomsticks.

Hermione rolls her eyes at me, but gives in. It feels so good to get out of the cold that for a minute I don't pay much attention to the other people in the pub. "Look, there's Slughorn," Hermione whispers, nodding at a corner. "He must have come back a day early."

Great - just who I _didn't_ feel like running into. "Let's go over here," I say, starting for a table at the opposite end of the room. "I'm not much in the mood for being called Ralph today."

It's too late, though - Slughorn's already waddling toward us. "Why, Hermione!" he calls, beaming at her. "And - er - "

"You remember Ron, Professor," Hermione says, cutting him off before he can get the wrong name out. "My fiancé."

"Of course, of course!" Slughorn, says, shaking hands. "Did you say fiancé? Well, well - this calls for a drink, I think!"

Hermione and I exchange startled looks. Not like Slughorn to offer to buy anyone else a drink, is it? But it turns out he's only talking about himself. He orders a glass of mead from Madam Rosmerta and then sits down at our table without being invited.

He's still there (and still talking) when we finish eating. I throw Hermione a desperate look - how the hell are we going to get rid of him?

"Now, I hope you two are planning to stop in and say hello to Professor McGonagall while you're here," Slughorn says, beaming at us.

"Yes, of course," Hermione says. "And I need to see Madam Pince as well - I've got a book for her."

"Well, I'll just Apparate up to the gates and wait so I can let you in," Slughorn says. "See you in a few minutes!"

All of a sudden it's like he can't wait to get out of here. I can't understand why till Rosmerta appears a second later with the check.

"Here you are," she says, dropping a piece of parchment on the table in front of me. "That's two butterbeers, two lunch specials, and three glasses of my best mead - seven Galleons; four Sickles."

I should have known. I look around, but Slughorn - naturally - is nowhere in sight. Rosmerta looks at me expectantly. "Horace said you'd take care of it," she says.

"Never mind," Hermione whispers, patting my hand. "At least we got rid of him."

Cheap at any price, that. "Let's go," I say, handing over the gold to Rosmerta.

We look at each other uncertainly once we're outside. "What do you think we'd better do?" Hermione asks. "Slughorn's waiting for us by the gates."

"Let him wait," I say. "He just cost me seven Galleons."

"He's bound to think it's strange," Hermione points out. "After all, why would anyone walk in this weather if they could Apparate?"

"You go on, then," I say. "You can do the bit with Madam Pince - she always liked you better than me, anyway - and I'll walk back and look for the whatever-it-is on the path. You can tell Slughorn I had an errand in the village or something."

"I suppose it'll have to do," Hermione says doubtfully. "Sorry to stick you with the path."

Between Slughorn and Pince, I think I've got the better deal. "It'll be all right," I say bravely. "As long as I keep moving I probably won't get frostbite."

**Hermione**

Slughorn leaves me waiting in the entrance hall while he goes to find Professor McGonagall. I look around curiously. It almost looks the same as it always did, but if you look closely you can still see faint signs of the battle that took place here. The hourglasses that track the House points have all been repaired - last time I saw them they were nothing but shattered glass with jewels scattered over the floor…

"You'll be pleased to see that Gryffindor is in the lead," a voice says from behind me. I start slightly and turn to see Professor McGonagall.

"I _am_ rather pleased," I admit. "Even though I'm not a Gryffindor any more."

"Nonsense, my dear - you'll be a Gryffindor for life," Professor McGonagall says crisply. "And you could always come back to us, you know."

"I have a job," I remind her. "And Ron and I are getting married next year."

Professor McGonagall doesn't look surprised. "I always thought you two would end up together," she remarks. "Once young Weasley stopped being such an idiot, of course."

I can't help laughing. I hadn't thought Professor McGonagall ever noticed who was going out with who, but apparently she did.

"I must say, I'm a bit disappointed," she says, surprising me. "When Horace told me you were here, I thought you might have come to talk to me about continuing your education. You were one of the brightest students I ever taught, you know."

Oh dear. "Thanks," I say, blushing. "But I couldn't leave Ron."

Professor McGonagall eyes me. "That sort of thing wears off," she says dryly.

I realize, horrified, that she thinks I'm talking about sex. (As if I would, to her!) "It's not that," I stammer, turning even redder. "It's just - well, we all got to depend on each other last year, and - well - I'd be all on my own here. And I'm nineteen now; I'm two years older than most of the other girls in seventh year."

"Yes," Professor McGonagall says thoughtfully. "I can see where that could make a difference. But you're mistaken if you think that you can only continue your education if you live on the premises."

I stare at her. "What?" I say, not very brightly. "You mean I could do some sort of correspondence courses?" It's a Muggle term, and I'm not sure if she's going to know what I mean, but she's already nodding.

"Precisely," she says. "It was something I considered last year, when so many students weren't allowed to come back. Of course, I gave up on the idea as soon as I realized that corresponding with our Muggle-born students would jeopardize their safety."

"Correspondence courses," I repeat, half to myself. "I could keep on with my job and study at night…"

"You'd have to study very hard," Professor McGonagall warns. "And you'll find some of the subjects difficult, without a teacher right there to demonstrate. It's not everyone who could do it."

"I could," I say firmly. If there's one thing I'm confident about, it's my ability to study.

"Yes, I believe you could," Professor McGonagall agrees. "The question, Hermione, is do you _want_ to? It's going to take up most - if not all - of your free time."

"I do want to," I say at once. "Please, Professor McGonagall, let me try."

Professor McGonagall studies my face for a moment without answering. "All right," she says finally. "Come up to my study and I'll give you the seventh year book list."

Half an hour later I'm on my way back to the entrance hall with the list - and my first Transfiguration assignment - tucked securely in my pocket. It's wonderful the way everything's sort of falling into place. Of course, I'll have to work awfully hard, and I won't have the Hogwarts library available when I need to do research or -

The library. Goodness, I nearly forgot all about it, and it was the whole reason I came up here in the first place. I turn and retrace my steps. With any luck, Madam Pince won't be there and I can just leave the book and have a look round by myself.

She's there, though - and not alone. Filch is leaning over the desk whispering something to her, and she's actually giggling. Maybe I ought to come back later. While I'm hesitating in the doorway, Madam Pince suddenly looks up and sees me. "Oh," she says, startled. "Miss Granger. I thought you'd left school."

Filch turns and gives me a sulky look. "Dunno why you kids all keep coming back," he grumbles. "You lot were enough trouble when you were students."

"I _have_ left school," I say to Madam Pince, ignoring him. "I just stopped in to give you this book." I set my copy of _Fantastic Beasts_ on the desk in front of her. "I couldn't manage to repair the one I was working on, so I thought I'd replace it."

Madam Pince's face softens. "That really wasn't necessary, but it was very thoughtful of you," she says approvingly. "You always were a considerate child - and very careful about always putting things back where they belonged. Not like _some_ I could mention."

I'll bet she means Ron. He was forever putting books back on the wrong shelves. I wish Filch wasn't here, but since he is, I'll have to do the best I can. "Mr. Filch?" I say, turning to him. "When I was here last summer, I lost one of my - er - earrings. I don't suppose you came across it anywhere?"

Filch glares at me. "An earring?" he repeats, looking outraged. "In this whole castle? Like I've got nothing better to do than look for an earring, with all the mess these kids make. You probably left it in your dormitory."

"I'm pretty sure I lost it somewhere near the library," I say.

Filch shakes his head. "I've found all manner of things, but I've never yet come across no earring," he says firmly.

It'd be just like him to throw it out if he did, anyway. Not that there was an earring to find - I just couldn't think of anything else to say.

"What did it look like?" Madam Pince is asking.

Oh. "It was - er - silver," I say quickly. "Maybe I lost it in the library. You wouldn't mind if I had a look, would you?"

"Well," Madam Pince says dubiously.

"I won't touch anything," I say quickly.

"Go on, let her look, Irma," Filch says unexpectedly. "You and I can finish our conversation." He leers knowingly at her, and Madam Pince blushes.

"Go ahead, look all you like," she says, flapping her hand at me nervously.

I walk up and down the rows, even in the restricted section, but the floors are bare and spotless. I pause by the desk on my way out, but Filch is whispering again and neither of them even looks up as I walk by.

I reach the entrance hall again and hesitate. Ron ought to be here by now, surely? I put my hand on the door and then turn back, undecided. Maybe he's already here, someplace. I've just pulled out my wand to send a Patronus when I see one starting to form in front of me.

"I'm outside," it says in Ron's voice. "Open the door, will you, Hermione? It's getting colder by the second out here."

I stare at the thing in the air. It sounds like Ron, but it definitely doesn't look like his Patronus. It doesn't look like any animal I've ever seen in my life.

I open the door cautiously, with my wand held in front of me.

"About time," Ron says impatiently. "It's bloody freezing out here."

It looks like Ron, but…. "Wait," I say quickly. "Where were we the first time you proposed to me?"

Ron grins at me. "Not going to make me do it a third time, are you?" he asks. "We were in bed."

He wouldn't have told anyone else about that, would he? "All right," I say, opening the door the rest of the way.

Ron hurries in, shivering. "Thought I'd freeze to death out there," he says, stamping the snow off his feet. "What the hell was all that about?"

"Your Patronus," I say. "Surely you noticed? It looks rather… odd."

"Yeah, I know," Ron admits, frowning. "It's looked a bit funny the last couple of times. But they do that sometimes, don't they? Change form?"

"Yes, but they generally change into something recognizable," I point out. I look down at the huge clots of snow he's left in the hallway. Filch is _not_ going to be pleased. "Maybe we'd better go," I say.

I follow him out the front door. Ron's right - it's much colder now that the sun's starting to go down. "Any luck?" I whisper as soon as we're a few feet away from the building.

Ron shakes his head. "I kicked the snow away on both sides all the way up, but I couldn't find anything," he says. "Anyway, I started thinking about it and I don't reckon he would have lost it on the path anyway."

"How would he have known?" I ask. "He said he didn't look."

"Yeah, which means he didn't open it," Ron says. "Think about it, Hermione. Say you're on your way back to Hogwarts and someone gives you something that you don't want anyone to see. What do you do with it?"

"Put it in a pocket or something, I suppose," I say, involuntarily patting the one that holds my book list.

"And if you wanted to have a look at it, you wouldn't do it outside in the dark," Ron says. "You'd wait until you got inside, where you could see. And then supposing someone came along just as you were opening it and you had to hide it in a hurry - well, that's the only chance the whatever-it-is would've had of falling out, isn't it? He had to have dropped it when he was shoving it in the book."

I think about it. "It makes sense," I say after a minute. "But I'm not sure if I'm agreeing with you because I honestly think you're right, or because I know we're never going to find anything in all this snow."

"It's both," Ron says, grabbing my arm. "Come on, let's get out of here. If I don't get into dry clothes soon these are going to freeze solid on me."

"But he didn't drop it inside," I argue, letting him lead me across the lawn. "Because Harry couldn't find it - and neither could I."

"Then someone else found it," Ron says. "Either Filch, or some kid that doesn't know what he's got."

"I asked Filch if he'd found an earring," I admit. "I couldn't think what else to say. He said he didn't."

Ron stops walking and stares at me. "Of course he didn't," he says. "We're not even looking for an earring."

"We don't know that," I say defensively. "It could be anything."

"Well, I'll bet it's not a bloody earring," Ron says. "Of all the - "

"If you think you can do better, go right ahead and ask him yourself!" I say. "Go on, I'll wait for you."

"No way," Ron says hastily, starting to walk again. "He's already had you and Harry looking around for things outside the library. Just how long do you think it's going to take him to get suspicious? I think we'd better wait a few days. Once school starts, it'll be easy enough for one of us to sneak in under the Invisibility Cloak and search Filch's office."

Always assuming we can get back into the grounds, of course. But I can - Professor McGonagall said she wanted to see me at least once a month. "All right," I say.

"We can Apparate from here," Ron says, holding the gate open for me. "I can't wait to get in front of a nice warm fire. Think we'll have it to ourselves for a bit?"

"I think so," I say, slipping my arm around his waist. I hope we will, anyway. I've got quite a lot I need to talk to him about.

**Harry**

Teddy grabs my knee for balance and pulls himself to his feet. "Well done!" I tell him. Teddy claps his hands with joy and immediately loses his balance. I catch him just as he's about to fall over. "He's awfully young to be trying to walk, isn't he?" I ask, looking over at Andromeda.

"Not necessarily," Andromeda says. "Dora took her first steps when she was barely ten months old. She never bothered about crawling at all - too slow for her, I suppose. Of course, all the experts now say it's not good for babies to skip the crawling stage. I often wonder if that was why Dora was so accident-prone."

"I don't know what they expect people to do about it," Ginny says matter-of-factly. "You can hardly shove the poor baby back down on its hands and knees, can you? If they want to walk, they'll walk."

Andromeda laughs. "You'll make a good mother," she says approvingly. "You've got plenty of common sense."

I look sideways at Ginny. She's holding both of Teddy's hands, helping him steady himself again. For a minute I think about what it'd be like if we were married and Teddy was our son.

"We've got so many cousins, somebody was always having a baby," Ginny's answering. "I got used to having them around."

I let my mind wander again. I still can't believe what happened between us last night. Not that I hadn't ever imagined it happening, of course. (Actually, I thought about it a lot.) Only I didn't want to rush things…

_"It's hardly rushing," Ginny had said. "I've been in love with you since I was ten."_

_"Well, I love you, too," I'd answered. "I just wanted to wait for the right time."_

_"This_ is_ the right time," Ginny whispered, winding her arms around my neck._

"Harry?" Andromeda says, bringing me back to the present. It sounds like this might not be the first time she's said my name.

"Sorry," I say quickly. "I was daydreaming, I guess."

Ginny gives me a small, private smile, and I squeeze her hand lightly. "I just wondered if you'd like some more tea," Andromeda says.

"Yeah, sure," I say quickly. "Thanks."

Ginny's watching Teddy's hair change colors. "Does he still look like Ton - er, Dora?" she asks.

"More than ever," Andromeda says at once. "I've got a picture of her at that age somewhere…" She flicks her wand at a stack of photograph albums, and suddenly I realize what's been nagging at me all along. It's been right there in front of me the whole time, and I didn't even realize.

"Could I have a look at that other album you showed me?" I interrupt. "The one with the picture of the Lestrange brothers?"

**Ron**

"You don't mind, do you?" Hermione asks, looking up at me anxiously.

"Why would I mind?" I ask, pulling her up close against my side. "I always thought you ought to finish school. You were the cleverest witch in our whole year. What I _didn't_ want was for you to be away at Hogwarts and me to be here."

"Well, now I won't have to go anywhere," Hermione says, leaning her head on my shoulder. "But it's going to take up a lot of my free time - I'll have to work awfully hard to make up the first half of the year."

"I don't mind you studying," I say. "Long as I don't have to do it with you." Personally I don't care about not getting any NEWTs, but I know it meant a lot to Hermione. I think about saying that she can study while she's at work - it's not like they do anything in that office, anyway - but maybe I'd better not.

"Once I pass everything I can see about transferring to the Department of Magical Law," Hermione says happily. "Then I can _really_ do something to make changes."

Magical Law? "What do you want to change?" I ask, a little uneasily. Hermione gets some weird ideas sometimes.

"Anything that differentiates between purebloods and Muggle-borns," Hermione says at once. "And I'd like to do something to help werewolves, too."

"Oh," I say, reassured. That ought to be all right.

Hermione's unfolding a piece of parchment. "Here's my book list," she says, waving it at me. "Tomorrow after work I'm going straight to Flourish & Blotts."

I remember with relief that Perdita and I are working the late shift tomorrow. Hermione could spend all day in a book shop, but I get bored after about ten minutes.

"We ought to get ready to go, I suppose," Hermione's saying as she folds her list up again. "Your mum's expecting us for dinner at six and it's nearly half-past five already."

I don't know why she always thinks we have to "get ready". It's just the Burrow. "I'm not changing my clothes," I warn, just as the front door opens.

"Ron? Hermione?" Harry calls. "Are you here?"

"In here," I call back. Harry'll back me up - he won't want to bother changing either.

Harry appears in the doorway. Ginny's not with him. "I know what it is," he says.

What? Oh, the _thing_. I can't help thinking he might have thought of it before I spent the whole afternoon digging through the snow. "How'd you figure it out?" I ask. "Did you see Malfoy again? Did he remember something?"

Harry shakes his head. "I remembered something," he says. "We were at Andromeda's, and she went to show Ginny something in one of her photo albums, and - "

"The coin!" Hermione whispers. "Of course! Harry, how could we have been so stupid?"

"What coin?" I say, totally lost. "It's a coin?" Bloody hell - if Filch found it, he probably spent it.

"I'm the one that was stupid," Harry says to Hermione, ignoring me. "I should have remembered last night when I saw Zabini."

Zabini? Now Hermione looks as confused as I feel. "What's Blaise Zabini got to do with it?" she asks. "It was Rabastan Lestrange's coin - only I thought he lost it."

"I'm the one who nearly got frostbite today looking for what you're now telling me is a bloody coin," I say, before Harry can answer. "So it might be a nice touch if you'd fill me in."

"Okay," Harry says, coming the rest of the way into the room. "Back when Andromeda and her sisters and the rest of them were all at school together, Rabastan Lestrange used to have this coin that he said had belonged to Slytherin."

"Which one was Rabastan again?" I ask.

"Rodolphus's brother," Hermione says. "And that coin was no more Slytherin's than it was mine."

Harry clears his throat. "Anyway, either Rabastan lost the coin or somebody stole it from him," he continues. "Andromeda said Rabastan thought it was Rodolphus who stole it, and from the way she was talking, I had the feeling she thought so, too." He looks at Hermione, and she nods.

I don't get it. "What does it do, that coin?" I ask. Maybe it's magic.

"Dunno," Harry admits. "Andromeda didn't think it did anything."

Er, okay. "And how does Zabini come into it?" I ask. That bit still doesn't make sense.

"He doesn't, exactly," Harry says. "It's just that when I saw him last night, I started thinking about Malfoy putting the Imperius Curse on Rosmerta and giving her orders - "

"- through a coin!" Hermione interrupts. "Do you think that's what it's for?"

"That doesn't make sense," I point out. "They could've used any coin. It didn't have to be one that belonged to Slytherin."

"It didn't belong to Slytherin," Hermione says impatiently. "They didn't even _have_ Galleons back in his time."

"Maybe Rabastan wasn't all that bright," I say, grinning. "How do you know it was a Galleon? Did Andromeda say so?"

"No, we saw a picture," Harry answers. "It wasn't very clear, but it was the right size to be a Galleon."

"We'll have to go back and look again," Hermione says distractedly. "We didn't find anything today, but we weren't looking for money specifically."

"No, but if I'd seen any, I'd bloody well have picked it up," I say. The words remind me of something, and I frown, trying to think what it is.

"Ron's right," Harry says, dropping into a chair. "Anyone could have found it. If it really was the Galleon, it's probably long gone by now."

"Not if he dropped it someplace inaccessible," Hermione's saying, when all of a sudden I remember.

"What if Malfoy didn't drop it at all?" I say. Harry and Hermione both stop talking and stare at me. "What if the coin fell out right here, on our bedroom floor, and I picked it up?" I reach into my pocket and pull out my lucky piece. "You saw the picture," I say to both of them. "Did Rabastan's coin look anything like this one?" 


	19. Chapter 19

**Harry**

"_Is_ it the same one?" Hermione demands, leaning over my chair.

I look down at the coin over in my hand. "I think so," I say doubtfully. "I mean, I guess it could be, but - " I turn to Ron. "You say you found it upstairs someplace?"

"It was caught in the floor boards between my trunk and Hermione's," Ron says. "I knew it didn't belong to any of us because it was so old - I thought maybe it was left over from when the Blacks lived here."

"1925," Hermione says thoughtfully. "It's old for a coin, I suppose, but what kind of idiot would have believed it was Slytherin's? Honestly - he lived about a thousand years ago!"

"Well, Crabbe and Goyle might have believed it," Ron says, grinning. "Maybe Rabastan wasn't any brighter than they were."

"He can't have been _that_ stupid," Hermione says. "Or Rodolphus can't, anyway - not if he's managed to fool the Aurors into thinking he's dead."

"He hasn't fooled the Aurors," I protest, but she's got a point. "Maybe this isn't the right coin, then."

"Or maybe he lied," Ron says. "Rabastan, I mean. If he kept it on him all the time and never let anybody get a good look, no one but him would have known about the 1925 thing."

1925… why does that date seem to mean something to me? Something Dumbledore said, maybe? For some reason I'm thinking of the Pensieve…

"Why would he lie about it?" Hermione's asking blankly, and Ron shrugs.

"See if it can do anything," he suggests.

Hermione takes the coin from me and taps it with her wand, muttering charms under her breath. "Nothing," she says after a minute, handing it back to me. "At least, nothing that I can find."

"Maybe they're using it to contact each other, then," Ron offers.

"They would have had a hard time, when it's been in your pocket for the last few months," Hermione says, but she looks thoughtful. "I suppose we could try and see what happens. What do you think, Harry?"

"I think it wouldn't hurt to try," I say, pulling my mind back to the present. "But not right now. We're due at the Burrow in about three minutes."

Hermione's hands go to her hair. "You look fine," Ron says automatically. "It's only the family."

I tuck the coin carefully in my mokeskin bag. "Let's go," I say. "We can talk about this later."

I have a hard time keeping my mind off it all through dinner, and even afterwards, when Ginny and I slip away for a little private time in her room. "What are you thinking about?" Ginny asks, drawing away from me. "You've been awfully quiet."

"Just thinking about how much I'm going to miss you," I say, which is partially the truth. "It's been nice having you around these past few weeks."

"You'll see far more of me than you did when I was at Hogwarts," Ginny says practically. "But I'll agree it's been nice - particularly last night."

I pull her close again. "Wish you could spend tonight with me, too," I say, pushing away the thoughts of Rodolphus and his coin.

"Oh, so do I," Ginny says regretfully. "But Mum and Dad want to see me off tomorrow. Mum's making a special breakfast and everything. I didn't feel right about saying I wouldn't be here - especially since they were so good about me leaving school."

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" I ask.

"A little," Ginny admits. "Not about the Quidditch part - I know I can play all right. But everything's going to be so new and strange."

"We'll all be at your first match," I say.

"A week from Saturday, against the Tornadoes," Ginny reminds me. "And mind you don't let Ron wear his Chudley Cannons shirt."

"Speaking of shirts," I say, "what the hell was your brother Percy wearing tonight?"

Ginny giggles. "Wasn't it awful? I think his new girlfriend gave it to him for Christmas."

"New girlfriend?" I say. "What happened to Penelope?"

"Percy says they didn't have anything in common anymore, but I think she dumped him," Ginny says. "We haven't met this new one yet, but I don't have very high hopes. Anyone who would expect her boyfriend to dress in purple velvet…"

Purple velvet…. I flash suddenly on a picture of Dumbledore wearing a purple velvet suit. He was walking down a London street and it was about sixty years ago…

"Harry?" Ginny says, and I force myself to smile at her.

"Mind you write to me straight off as soon as you know your schedule," I say. "I'll come and take you out to dinner when you get a free evening."

"We've been all over that," Ginny says patiently. "What are you _really_ thinking about - and does it have anything to do with those pictures Andromeda showed us?"

I shift uncomfortably. "Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange," Ginny says musingly. "They're both dead, aren't they?"

She's a damned sight too clever sometimes. "Rabastan is confirmed dead," I say carefully. "Rodolphus is presumed to be."

"Presumed," Ginny repeats. "It's not exactly the same thing, is it?"

"No, it isn't," I say, giving up. "Look, Ginny - "

"I'm not going to say anything," Ginny assures me. "But I could be a lot of help to you - if you let me."

"I don't want you getting involved with this," I say, but my curiosity's getting the better of me. "Okay, how?"

Ginny shrugs. "I'm going to be traveling all over the place, meeting all sorts of people," she says. "If there's anyone - or anything - you want me to keep an eye on for you - well, I've got an owl now."

I hesitate, but it's just as well to warn her, isn't it? "All right," I say, against my better judgment. "There's a witch called Xanthia Davis who works for Magical Games and Sports. You'll probably see her at some of the matches and events."

"Xanthia Davis," Ginny says, nodding. "Got it. Is she any relation to that absolute cow, Tracy?"

"Dunno," I admit. "Probably, but it doesn't matter. Now, I don't want you to pay any particular attention to Xanthia - and mind she doesn't catch you anywhere near her - but if she does anything at all that you think is strange, or - " My voice trails off. _I'm_ not even sure what I mean, how the hell can I possibly explain it to Ginny? Anyway, she ought to stay as far from Xanthia as she can. "Maybe you'd better not risk it," I say. "It's one thing for Aurors to tail people, but - "

Ginny sits up and glares at me. "Harry, no!" she says. "You promised I could help. Anyway, I want to."

I look at her and feel myself weakening.

"Hermione helps with Auror stuff all the time!" Ginny points out triumphantly. "And Ron doesn't try to stop her."

"Because Ron knows it isn't any use," I say wearily. _And so do I._ "All right. Just watch her, that's all. And if you hear her say anything about a coin, or see her doing anything funny with one, I want to know about it straight away."

"A coin?" Ginny says alertly. "Like the one Rabastan Lestrange had in the photo?"

Damn it. "And don't send an owl," I warn, ignoring this last comment. "Send a Patronus. Maybe you'd better practice them for a bit, just so you know you can do it when you need to."

"Kiss me again, then," Ginny says promptly. "So I can get a few happy thoughts going."

**Hermione**

"What we need to do," I say, "is make a list."

Ron groans, and I give him an admonishing look. "We're forgetting things," I say firmly. "Important things. I think we need to go back to the beginning and write everything down to see if there's a pattern." I look over at Harry. He's hardly said a word since we got home. "Do you want to write?" I ask.

"Huh?" Harry says. "No, you go on."

I knew it. They always make me write. I find parchment and a quill and settle down again. "I suppose the first thing would be Marietta trying to poison us," I say, thinking. "Or - no, the first thing would be Rodolphus giving Malfoy that envelope."

"And that woman who told Reg Cattermole I was a Death Eater," Ron says. "Don't forget her - we still don't know who it was."

It was Damaris, I'm almost positive, but I don't bother saying so again. "And Robards taking Harry to search Snape's house," I say, writing quickly. "Or maybe we ought to leave that off since we know what he was looking for. What do you think, Harry?"

"What?" Harry says, startled. "No, write it."

I put the quill down and look at him. Maybe he's upset about Ginny leaving - although that hardly seems likely since I overheard them making plans to have dinner on Ginny's first evening off.

Ron's finally noticed, too. "What?" he demands, looking over. "Did you think of something else?"

Harry shakes his head. "Dunno, exactly," he admits, looking frustrated. "It seems like there's something about the date on that coin that means something, but I can't quite get my mind around it. And then Percy's shirt tonight - "

"Yeah, hard to stop thinking about that one, isn't it?" Ron says, grinning. "George and I both told him that just because she gave it to him, he didn't have to actually _wear_ it in public, but - "

"It made me think of Dumbledore," Harry says, not listening. "Dumbledore on his way to meet Tom Riddle for the first time - the day he went to see him in the orphanage."

I'm not sure what Percy's shirt - which I'll admit was perfectly awful - has to do with Dumbledore, but I know what Harry's talking about. It was one of the memories from the Pensieve that Dumbledore showed him. "Was it 1925 when he went?" I ask, trying to do the calculations in my head.

"Couldn't have been," Ron says promptly. He's much faster at maths than I am. "Not if Voldemort was at school with Hagrid. It would have been at least ten years later than that."

"Or eleven," Harry says, sitting up straight. "That's it - 1925 was the year Voldemort was born!"

Ron and I look at each other. "Well, so what?" Ron says, voicing what we're both thinking. "It's not like they only made the one coin that year."

"Yeah, I know," Harry says, relapsing into frustrated silence.

Ron raises his eyebrows at me, and I shrug. Back to the list, then. "Snape's house," I say, writing it down. "And Azkaban - Crabbe told Robards he didn't know where 'it' was, didn't he?"

"And Dennis Creevey," Ron says.

I look up at him, exasperated. "Dennis Creevey hasn't got anything to do with this," I point out. "He just ran away from home, that's all."

"Well, he might come in useful," Ron says. "Put it down anyway."

I write "Dennis Creevey", rolling my eyes as I do it. "Then Marietta," I say. "Who may or may not have been Imperiused when she tried to poison us."

"Not," Ron says promptly. "No one's tried since, have they?"

Good point. I still don't like thinking about Marietta, so I move on quickly. "Malfoy," I say. "And poor Clarissa… and Blaise Zabini turning up out of nowhere."

"And the other list," Ron says. "The one with the disappearing Death Eaters on it."

"I still haven't managed to track down Persephone Burke," I say, setting my quill aside. "Have you two had any luck with the others?"

Ron shakes his head. "We can't watch all of them at once," he says. "There're only the two of us, and most of the time we're not even _at_ the Ministry."

Harry rouses himself slightly. "Ginny's going to keep an eye on Xanthia Davis for us," he says.

"Ginny?" I say, a bit anxiously. "Oh, Harry, do you think that was a good idea?"

"No, of course I don't," Harry admits promptly. "But she figured out a bit more than I meant her to know - and well, you know Ginny. She wants to be in on this. She promised me she'd be careful."

"I think it's a good idea," Ron says unexpectedly. Harry and I both give him astonished looks. "Well, I do!" Ron says. "We can't watch Xanthia ourselves, and she'll have no reason to suspect Ginny."

"I don't suppose it's all that dangerous, as long as she's careful," I say thoughtfully. "And you're quite right - with Harry watching Malfoy all the time and me stuck in the House-Elf Office, well…"

"Anything could be happening," Harry says restlessly. "They've got people in every Department, and there are only three of us."

"So have we," Ron says. "Got people in every Department, I mean."

"No," Harry says at once.

"Just listen, all right?" Ron says. "I talked to a lot of people last night, and I reckon there's a former D.A. member working in just about every Department at the Ministry right now. Susan Bones is in Muggle Relations; Terry Boot's in Magical Accidents and Catastrophes; Ernie's starting in Magical Records tomorrow - "

"No," Harry says again. "We can't go telling everyone about this."

"We don't have to tell them _everything_," I point out. I turn to Ron. "Michael Corner's doing Healer training," I say. "He could keep an eye out at St. Mungo's for us. And there's Hannah at the Leaky Cauldron - she must see nearly everyone coming and going."

"Don't forget George," Ron says. "If anyone comes in looking for Peruvian Instant Darkness powder - "

"What's going on with him and Angelina, anyway?" I ask, distracted.

"Never mind George and Angelina," Harry says impatiently. "We're not dragging them all into this."

"It's not dragging them in," I argue. "All we have to do is ask each person to watch a specific name off the list for us - for instance, Ernie would be responsible for Samuel Flint, since they're both in Magical Records. We don't have to tell them why."

Harry stares silently into the fireplace, but I can tell he's thinking about it. "I asked George, but he wouldn't tell me anything," Ron whispers to me. "I didn't see them snogging or anything, did you?"

I shake my head, watching Harry. "Okay," he says finally, looking up. "Let's have a look at that list again, and we'll see who matches up. I'm still not sure this is a good idea, but - "

"But we need some help," I say, relieved. "And that'll leave you two free to concentrate on the coin."

"I dunno if concentrating's going to help us," Ron says dubiously. "The only person who could really tell us anything about that coin is Rodolphus, and it's not like we can ask him."

"No, but Malfoy can," I say. "I think you'd better tell him to do it when you see him tomorrow, Harry."

Harry gives me a look I can't quite interpret. "Yeah, _that_ ought to be easy," he says. "All right, I'll talk to Malfoy - and I'll try to stop in and talk to Hannah, too. I wonder how her date with Neville went."

"Didn't you see them?" Ron demands. "Hannah launched herself straight at Neville the second they said it was midnight - I thought she'd take him off his feet for a minute there. Course, Neville wasn't exactly looking like he minded. I don't know how you could have missed _that_ one, mate!"

Harry looks uncomfortable. He missed it because he and Ginny had already left, of course. "Where were you, anyway?" Ron's asking.

"I didn't think _you'd_ have any objection to a woman making the first move," I say to Ron.

He pulls me onto his lap. "I've got no objection to it at all," he says teasingly. "In fact, if you felt like making a move on me right now, I wouldn't obj-"

"I'm still in the room, remember?" Harry says, but there's an undertone of relief in his voice.

**Draco**

I was dreading the return to the Broom Regulatory Control Office, but it's easier than I thought it was going to be. Everyone's busy talking about their holidays, and I slip in unnoticed and take my place next to Hobart.

"So you're back," Hobart says with a sniff. "Thought we'd seen the last of you."

I ignore him, and after a minute he pushes a huge stack of manuals in my direction. "These are for the new Firebolt," he informs me. "Top secret, so mind you don't go blabbing about it to your friends."

What friends? Zabini's the closest thing I have to a friend these days, and he couldn't be less interested in brooms. Before I realize it, I've automatically glanced over to the place where Clarissa used to sit. Her seat's empty - I guess they haven't hired anyone else.

Hobart's looking disapprovingly at the other Correctors, still gathered in the front of the room. "They ought to sit down," he says crossly. "The holidays are _over_. And who's that?"

I look up. Bloody Potter - what the hell can he want now? He's beckoning me to come out. I ignore Hobart's sigh and go out into the corridor, closing the door behind me. "What?" I say ungraciously.

"I need to talk to you," Potter says.

"Yes, that was rather obvious," I say. "To everyone else in my department as well. What am I supposed to tell them?"

"Tell them the Aurors had something they needed to ask you," Potter says promptly. He glances over his shoulder and then does that charm thing again.

"Show me how to do that," I say, diverted.

Potter ignores this. "Have you any way of getting in touch with Rodolphus?" he asks abruptly.

"He finds me when he wants me," I say. "I don't know where he is, if that's what you're after. I told Weasley that already."

"When he contacts you again, I need you to ask him something," Potter says. "Ask him 'was it really Slytherin's'."

I stare at him. "Was what really Slytherin's?"

"Never mind," Potter says mysteriously. "Just ask him, all right?"

"You've found it, haven't you?" I demand. "Where was it? _What_ was it?"

"Here comes Madam Edgecombe," Potter remarks, glancing down the corridor again. "She's your boss, isn't she? You'd better get back to work, Malfoy."

Edgecombe's bearing down on us. "Nice of you to finally decide to join us, Mr. Malfoy," she says sarcastically. She stopped being nice to me when I started dating Clarissa. "Do you suppose it would be too much trouble for you to go in and begin your work?"

I look at Potter, but he's vanished. Must be some Auror trick. I follow Edgecombe into the room, still wondering what Rodolphus's missing thing could have been. Something of Slytherin's, obviously, but what? And how am I supposed to deliver the message if Rodolphus doesn't contact me? He's been keeping his distance ever since he killed Clarissa; using Zabini to deliver his messages for him.

Zabini. That's it. I'll tell Zabini I need to talk to Rodolphus.

**Ron**

"All right," Susan says promptly. "Am I watching for anything specific?"

"Not exactly," I say, relieved at how easily she's agreed to help. "Just sort of keep an eye on her, you know? Find out who she talks to, who she has lunch with, that sort of thing. And if you see her doing anything that seems a bit off, let one of us know."

"All right," Susan says again. "Do you want me to send you a Patronus?"

"No," I say. Harry and Hermione and I talked it over and decided all those Patronus Charms might be a bit noticeable. Hermione's the one that came up with the idea - she was up half the night working on it. I reach into my pocket. "Remember these?"

"The enchanted coins," Susan says, looking pleased. "I've still got my old one at home somewhere, if you'd rather hold on to your supply."

"No, these are a bit different," I say quickly. Hermione put some sort of charm on them that I still don't understand. She said it's sort of a cross between a Fidelius Charm and whatever she did to that piece of parchment we all signed for the D.A. I think she invented it, actually. Still, we've got to be careful - this is serious business.

I hand Susan her coin and demonstrate with mine. "If you've got something to report, tap it three times with your wand," I explain. "One of us will get in touch as soon as possible."

"That's easy enough," Susan says. "Mind if I ask what this is all about?"

I was afraid we'd get to that. "I can't tell you," I say apologetically. "The thing is, we're not sure Evelinda Snodgrass is actually involved in anything - er - illegal. But she may be associating with people who are."

It seems like a lame explanation to me, but Susan's nodding like it makes perfect sense. "I hope she _is_ involved in it," she says cheerfully. "She's an awful old bat - and she absolutely despises Muggles, you know. I couldn't think why she'd decided she wanted to work in this department, but if she's up to something, it makes perfect sense."

"Well, good," I say randomly. "Thanks, Sue."

That's two, then - Terry said he'd help us out, too. He seemed sort of pleased, actually - he said his job in Magical Accidents gets awfully boring sometimes. I still need to talk to George, but that won't be any problem. Hermione said she'd take Ernie, since she's always in Magical Records anyway, and she's going over to St. Mungo's this afternoon to see Michael after she buys her books. Meanwhile, I'd better get over to the Auror Office - I've got about two minutes before I'm supposed to meet Perdita.

I'm just rounding the corner when I hear someone calling my name. "Reg!" I say, pleased. "You're back, then."

"Yeah," Reg says. He doesn't look too thrilled about it, if you ask me. "Mary and I thought we might make a go of it selling vegetables here, but it's not the same sort of market. The Muggles all thought my squashes were something special, but any wizard worth his salt can do an Engorgement Charm."

Good point. Although if you ask me, the only charm anyone ought to use on squash is a Vanishing one. "Good to see you back, anyway," I say. A sudden thought strikes me. "Hey, Reg - you've never yet run into that woman who talked to you at the Muggle vegetable market, have you?"

Reg grins at me. "The one what told me you were a Death Eater? Nope, I never have."

"You might take a good look around while you're here," I say. I don't want to plant any suggestions in his mind, but if Hermione's right and it is Damaris…

Reg's mouth drops open. "You think she works at the Ministry?" he says incredulously. "Mind, now that you come to mention it, there _was_ something a bit familiar about her. But I thought your lot rounded up all them people."

"We tried," I say quickly. "But you never know, do you?"

Reg nods wisely. "That you don't," he says. "Well, I'll do like you said and keep my eyes open."

"Thanks," I say, glancing down at my watch again. I'm already late. "Say hi to Mary and the kids for me."

Perdita's already waiting when I get there. "Sorry," I say quickly. "I was nearly here, and then I ran into Reg Cattermole."

"Yeah, I heard he was back," Perdita says. She hears everything, it seems like. "Well, you and I have a new assignment today." She waves a piece of parchment at me. "More missing people to track down - or one, anyway. This one's a Muggle-born wizard, and it says here he's underage. He took off a few months ago after using the Imperius Curse on his parents. The Improper Use of Magic Office hasn't had any luck locating him - I expect they've ruined any possible clues, at this point - and now it's been passed on to us."

Oh no. Please don't be who I think it is. "What's his name?" I ask, with a sinking feeling.

Perdita looks down at the parchment again. "He's called Dennis Creevey," she says. "Did you know him at school?"

**Harry**

Robards is in the middle of reading something when I stick my head in his office, but he waves me in without looking up. I sit down on the edge of a chair and wait. For once I hope he doesn't want me for anything so I can go and talk to Hannah.

Robards clears his throat. "I understand young Mr. Malfoy made an appearance New Year's Eve in a club called - " he glances at his notes - "Amortentia?"

How'd he know that already? I didn't even get a chance to talk to him yet. "Yeah, Ron and I talked to him," I say. "We suggested that it probably wasn't the most healthy place for him to be, and they left."

"They," Robards repeats, but it's not a question. I guess he already knows who Malfoy was with, but I say it anyway.

"He showed up with another bloke called Blaise Zabini - they were in Slytherin together at school," I tell him. "I'm not sure what they were doing there, but Malfoy never made it past the entrance, and all Zabini did was walk around and try to chat up a few girls."

"And you know this how?" Robards says, raising an eyebrow. "You have just informed me that you and Mr. Weasley were involved with young Malfoy."

"Because I had someone else follow Zabini," I say. Robards waits. "My girlfriend," I admit after a minute.

"Your girlfriend," Robards says softly. "I see. And is your _girlfriend_ a trained Auror?"

_And do you have to be such a git?_ "No, of course she's not," I say, a little impatiently. "But she's the youngest in a family of seven kids. Trust me, she knows how to find out what's going on without making it obvious."

For a second I swear he's about to smile, but then it's gone. "Be that as it may," he says briskly. "Blaise Zabini was alone and unattended in the club for several minutes. Do you know where he and Mr. Malfoy went after they left there?"

What? How the hell am I supposed to know? "It wasn't my night to watch Malfoy," I say, trying to keep the indignation out of my voice. "I had the last two days off, remember? Someone else was supposed to be tailing him - and whoever it was obviously slipped up by not following him into the club."

"In that case, you should have followed them yourself," Robards says coldly. "A professional Auror has no 'nights off', Mr. Potter. However, let me assure you that the person tracking Mr. Malfoy was just outside the entrance while he and Mr. Zabini were inside - er - Amortentia. Extraordinary name, by the way."

"So where'd Malfoy go?" I ask, trying not to let the "professional Auror" comment get to me.

"Home," Robards says blandly. "Incidentally, Mr. Potter, since there were two of you present in the club, one of you should have followed Zabini while the other one dealt with Malfoy. Surely it wasn't necessary for you and Mr. Weasley to speak to him together."

I grit my teeth and manage to remain silent, even though I'm dying to say that if Robards had been there trying to hold Seamus back like we were, he might have thought the situation called for two people.

"Now," Robards is saying briskly. "Lurleen informs me that young Draco left early this morning with the stated intention of returning to his position in the Broom Regulatory Control office. Have you checked to see that he has in fact arrived?"

"Yes," I say, clearly surprising him. "He's there. I'll follow him at lunch, but I reckon he's safe enough for a few hours."

Robards nods. "It wouldn't hurt to look in on him from time to time throughout the morning," he says. "And since that means you'll be unable to leave the Ministry, you may as well make yourself useful by doing some research for me. Go and ask Persimmon for the Warrington files."

I'm halfway to the door, but I stop and look back at him. "Warrington?" I ask. "I went to school with a Warrington."

"Did you indeed?" Robards says. "I understand he had a little soiree on New Year's Eve. Pity he didn't invite you, Mr. Potter - you could have saved yourself a great deal of research."

I wait to see if there's more, but Robards picks up a piece of parchment on his desk and starts looking it over. Feeling dismissed, I go in search of Persimmon.

**Hermione**

"Hermione!" Ernie says happily. "I was wondering if I'd see anyone I knew."

The clerk hovering behind him clears his throat. "Er, how may I assist you?" Ernie says quickly.

"I need a copy of _Advanced Transfiguration_," I say, smiling at him. "How's your first day going?"

"All right, so far," Ernie says, a bit nervously. "Er, _Advanced Transfiguration_? Not going to transfigure any house-elves, are you?"

It's not a bad idea if it would keep them out of Damaris's hands. "No," I explain. "It's for me - I'm taking my seventh year classes through correspondence courses."

Ernie beams at me. "Well, I'm very pleased to hear that," he says, a bit pompously. "You were the cleverest witch in our year, Hermione - it wouldn't do for you not to finish."

"The book," the other clerk says in a stage whisper.

"Oh," Ernie says, startled. "Right." He bustles over to a bookcase and starts anxiously scanning the titles.

"Not _there_," the clerk says. "Textbooks are all kept over _here_." He points at another bookcase, but I notice he can't be bothered getting up to help look. I wish he'd go away so I could ask Ernie about spying on Flint for us.

I lean over the barrier. I can see _Advanced Transfiguration_ - it's in the middle of the third shelf - but no one's allowed back there except Magical Records employees. I'm about to call Ernie's attention to it when I get a sudden idea. Ernie's back is toward me, and the other clerk's looking at something in a filing cabinet. I slip my wand cautiously out of my pocket and lean forward again. There - now it says _Advanced Trolls_.

"That's funny," Ernie says, looking puzzled. "Maybe we haven't got that one."

"Of course we have it," the other clerk says impatiently. He motions Ernie out of the way and peers at the shelf himself. "Well, maybe we don't," he admits after several minutes.

"Maybe someone else checked it out," Ernie offers, but the clerk shakes his head.

"Hardly anyone comes in looking for books," he says. "Well, except for her." He nods at me. "Most people come in to look up births and deaths and that sort of thing."

"Can't you find it?" I ask innocently. "Goodness, I thought Magical Records kept a copy of everything."

"We do," the clerk says instantly. "It's just - er - misplaced, that's all. If you wouldn't mind filling out a request form, Miss, we'll carry on looking for the book and I'll send MacMillan to your office with it as soon as we've located it."

"Perfect," I say, smiling at him. My spell ought to wear off in about ten minutes, which gives me plenty of time to get back to the House-Elf Relocation Office.

"Someone from Magical Records is going to be delivering a book for me," I tell Miranda when I get back. "Could you send him in when he gets here?"

I sit down at my desk and wait. A few minutes later, Ernie appears in the doorway.

"We found it right after you left," he says, holding out _Advanced Transfiguration_. "I can't think how Nigel and I both could have missed it. Anyway, here you are - and you'll have to fill out another form, of course."

"Sit down for a minute," I invite, reaching for my quill. I think about closing the door, but it might look odd. I do a quick _Muffliato_ (non-verbally, of course) instead.

Ernie sits down on the edge of a chair. "I'd better not be gone too long," he says. "First day and all, you know."

"This won't take long," I say. I hesitate, wondering how to begin. "Ernie, you trust Harry, don't you?" I ask finally.

"Trust him with my life," Ernie says promptly. "In fact, you might say that I _did_." He chuckles, and I manage a half-smile.

"Exactly," I say. "So if Harry needed you to do something for him, would you do it and not ask any questions?"

"Ye-es," Ernie says, a bit uneasily. "Long as it's nothing illegal - not that I think Harry would ever ask me to - but all the same, you know-"

"Quite," I say briskly, cutting him off. "It's nothing you need to worry about. We'd just like you to keep an eye on Samuel Flint for us."

"My boss?" Ernie says, looking less surprised than I'd expected. He leans forward confidentially. "You know, I _did_ wonder when I heard the name. There was that Marcus bloke in Slytherin, you remember…"

"I'm not sure if they're related," I say. "And not all Slytherins are bad people, you know."

"Course not," Ernie says hastily. "But you've got to admit, Hermione, the ones in our year were a pretty bad lot."

Good point. "Getting back to Samuel," I say. "Don't make it obvious, but try and find out who comes to see him; where he goes when he leaves his office during the day - you know the sort of thing."

"I'll try," Ernie says, looking doubtful. "I haven't exactly met him yet, so I can't tell you much of anything at the moment, but I do know where his office is."

"Well, that's a start," I say. "If you notice anything strange, tap this three times with your wand." I hand him one of the enchanted coins. "And mind you don't say a word about this to anyone but me, Harry or Ron." The warning's unnecessary, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to say it.

Ernie examines the coin carefully before tucking it into a pocket. "It's like the other ones we had," he says.

"Er, almost," I say. "Well, thanks, Ernie." I scribble my name at the bottom of the form and hand it to him. "I'll bring the book back as soon as I've gotten my own copy."

"There's an excellent second-hand bookshop that just opened in Diagon Alley," Ernie says, getting up to go. "If your salary is as low as mine, you'll probably want to look there first."

"Hermione?" Miranda says from the doorway. "Sorry to interrupt, but this memo just came for you." She flicks her wand at a hovering memo, and it flutters into the room.

"I'd better go," Ernie says quickly. "Nice to see you, Hermione - enjoy the book!"

"You and your books," Miranda says, coming in the rest of the way. She leans over my desk to peer at the title. "_Advanced Transfiguration_ - what's that, a bit of light reading?"

I wonder how long she was standing there before I noticed her. She couldn't have heard anything - not with the _Muffliato_ Charm - but if she saw me give Ernie that coin… Still, she couldn't know what it was. If she asks, I'll say I lent him money for lunch.

Miranda's still looking at me inquiringly. "I'm taking a few correspondence courses," I explain. "I never finished at school because I couldn't go back for seventh year, and then - well - "

"And by then you felt too old to put up with prefects and rules and all that nonsense," Miranda says, nodding. "You don't have to tell _me_ - I understand perfectly."

Oh dear. I'd better not tell her I was a prefect. "I'd like to try passing my NEWTs, though," I say instead.

"Transfiguration was never one of my best subjects," Miranda admits. "I barely scraped by with an 'Acceptable' on my OWL. You must be awfully clever."

I wish people wouldn't always say that. I never know whether to argue the point, or agree that I'm very clever indeed. Either way feels silly.

"Were you in Ravenclaw?" Miranda asks, and I shake my head, surprised.

"No, I was in Gryffindor with Harry and Ron," I answer. "What about you?"

"Hufflepuff," Miranda says. She grins. "I guess it's obvious I wasn't a Ravenclaw, after that remark about my Transfiguration OWL! But I did really well in Care of Magical Creatures."

The memo flutters impatiently about my head. I reach for it, hoping it's not from Kingsley so I won't have to explain. It's not, though - it's just a form letter about an upcoming meeting.

I try to settle down to my Transfiguration reading after Miranda's gone, but it's no use. I can't concentrate. I decide I might as well take my lunch hour early. With any luck, I can catch Michael as he's coming on for his shift at St. Mungo's. 

**Ron**

I try to get into bed without waking Hermione, but there's something heavy in my way. Books, it feels like - quite a lot of them. I guess she made it over to Flourish & Blott's. I try to shift them to the floor, but the stack's not quite as well-balanced as I'd thought.

"What are you doing?" Hermione says sleepily. Like it was my idea to leave a hundred books in the bed.

"Nothing," I say, getting in next to her. "Go back to sleep."

Hermione snuggles up against me and right away I forgive her for the books. "I managed to find everything on the book list," she says.

_Good thing you told me - I never would have figured that one out on my own._ "Good," I say, kissing her. "Any luck talking to Ernie and Michael?"

"Ernie's with us," Hermione says. "I couldn't find Michael - it was his day off today. How about Terry and Susan?"

"They're both going to help, too," I tell her. "So're George and Angelina."

Hermione sits up. "You saw Angelina?" she demands. "Was she at the joke shop? Why didn't you tell me that _first_?"

"I met her on the street and she walked over to the joke shop with me," I say, deciding not to answer the last part of the question. "I thought it wouldn't hurt to have her in on it as well - she's working for the post office, you know."

"What was going on with her and George?" Hermione asks, ignoring the post office.

I knew she was going to ask me that. I tried to pay attention, but I'm not good at noticing that sort of thing. I didn't even know my best mate liked my sister until he snogged her in front of the whole Common Room. "Maybe you should ask George," I say. Time to change the subject. "Did you talk to Harry?"

"He didn't get a chance to speak to Hannah," Hermione says. "I'm going to do it tomorrow - and I'll get Neville, too, if he's there. He gave Malfoy that message for Rodolphus, but he says he knows Malfoy didn't deliver it because Harry was stuck tailing him again all day and he says he never talked to anyone at all."

"I wondered where Harry was all day," I say, once I'm managed to decipher this sentence. "I was looking for him. Listen, Hermione, we've got a problem. Perdita and I just got assigned the job of tracking down Dennis Creevey. The Improper Use of Magic Office is after him for Imperiusing his mum and dad."

"Oh dear," Hermione says anxiously. "Poor Dennis. I was afraid something like that might happen, but then when we didn't hear anything - "

"Perdita says they're pretty serious about finding him if they turned it over to the Aurors," I tell her. "It's not so much that he did underage magic - even though he's in trouble for that, too - but he used an Unforgivable Curse."

"Well, he didn't _hurt_ them," Hermione says impatiently. "He just made them stop worrying, that's all. You didn't tell Perdita anything, did you?"

"I just told her how it was at the funeral," I say. "She felt sorry for him and all, but she said we still had to look for him. I didn't dare say I knew where he was hiding."

"Poor Dennis," Hermione says again. "I think you'd better go and have a talk with him."

I don't see why _I_ have to - I mean, it was Harry and Ginny's idea to hide him at the Hog's Head - but Hermione's snuggled down again like it's all settled. I reckon I'll have a word with Harry about it tomorrow. Meanwhile I guess I'll just have to keep pretending I'm looking for him. Luckily Perdita's got quite a lot on at the moment, so she's sort of handed the Dennis thing over to me.

"Anything else happen?" Hermione asks. She sounds sleepy again.

I think about it. "Reg Cattermole's back," I offer.

"That's nice," Hermione says, yawning. A second later she's asleep.

**Harry**

I'm at the Ministry early, waiting for Malfoy to show up. I almost wish he hadn't come back to work - I'll go mad if I have to spend weeks on end sitting in Robards' office looking at files. It turned out it wasn't Cecil Warrington from the Slytherin Quidditch team he was interested in - it was his great-uncle or something. Still, it got me thinking. I mean, it's not completely impossible that Warrington - and Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson and a whole lot of other people - could be just as involved in this thing as Draco Malfoy is. Robards doesn't think so - he thinks we're all still a bunch of kids - but if you ask me, it's looking more and more likely. I wish I had been at that party of Warrington's - I might have learned a lot.

I see a girl with hair almost the same color as Ginny's getting on the lift. I miss her already. It's too soon to expect a letter, but she sent me a Patronus last night. If I can keep Robards in a good mood maybe he'll give me a couple of days off to go and visit her.

There's Malfoy. Looks thrilled to be here, doesn't he? I catch his eye and beckon, and he glares at me but comes over. "Well?" he says.

I do a non-verbal _Muffliato_ so he won't nag me to show it to him again. "Did you talk to him?" I ask, even though I know he didn't.

"I _told_ you," Malfoy says, annoyed. "I don't know how to get in touch with him. I have to wait till he contacts me." He looks pointedly at his watch. "If that's all, Potter, I need to get to work."

Like he cares if he's late. "That's not quite all," I say, surprising myself. "I think you ought to make yourself a bit more available. He obviously can't contact you while you're here in the Ministry."

Judging by Malfoy's expression, that was exactly what he'd been counting on. "What do you want me to do?" he asks reluctantly.

"Just what I said," I answer. "You know, go out a bit more. Socialize."

"_Socialize_?" Malfoy says, like he's never heard the word before.

"Don't you have any friends?" I ask. "Send one of them an owl. Go out to lunch - hell, go out to dinner. Be seen out in public occasionally."

Malfoy looks like he's about to refuse. "Do you want this thing finished or not?" I demand. "Because if you do, you're going to have to help me out a bit here."

An odd expression crosses Malfoy's face. "Yeah, I want it finished," he says, not looking at me. "I - all right. I'll see what I can do." He turns away abruptly, heading for the lift.

I let him go. Robards wouldn't approve, but I really think it might push Malfoy over the edge if I got in the lift with him right now. Anyway, Madam Edgecombe got on right behind him - he won't dare go anywhere except straight to the Proofreading Room.

I'm waiting for the lift doors to re-open when I spot someone who looks familiar. "Dean!" I call, hurrying toward him.

Dean Thomas waves a sketchpad at me. "Hey, Harry!" he says. "Have you heard? I'm supposed to get started today."

"That's great," I say, drawing him aside. I can't think of anyone specific for him to watch, but he ought to see just about everything if he's in the Ministry Café all day. "As long as you're going to be here, would you mind if I asked you something?"

**Draco**

"I can't think why you wanted to have lunch _here_," Zabini says, looking disparagingly around the Ministry Café. "There's a very nice little French place just round the corner, you know. What do you say we - "

"No," I say. I never want to see that French place again. "I haven't much time," I add quickly. "This'll do, won't it?"

Zabini sighs. "I suppose it will be an experience," he says unenthusiastically.

I manage to find a table that's far enough away from the others so that we won't be overheard. I wish bloody Potter and Weasley would show me that damned noise-muffling charm. I looked all through my old Charms books last night, but I couldn't find it listed.

I look over at Zabini. He's poking suspiciously through his salad, ignoring me. "I asked you to lunch because I need to talk to my uncle about something," I say, keeping my voice low.

Zabini looks around hastily, then leans in close to answer. "I can't help you there," he says. "As I've told you repeatedly, I'm not involved."

"Well, you can pass on the message to someone, can't you?" I say impatiently. "I just need to talk to him, that's all."

"I can't make any promises," Zabini says guardedly. "I don't want any part of all this, you know."

"You can't stay out of it forever," I tell him. "You're going to have to pick a side sooner or later."

"I _have_ a side," Zabini says at once. "My own - and I have every intention of keeping it that way." He glances around the room again and then scowls. "How can you eat here with that sort of thing going on?" he demands.

I look over my shoulder. I should've known - Weasley and Granger are sitting close together in the corner. His arm is around the back of her chair and he's whispering something in her ear.

"I heard they're engaged," Zabini says with a shudder. "Really, it shouldn't be allowed."

Normally I would have agreed with him without a second thought, but something in the way he says it gets my back up. "It shouldn't be allowed"… that's what he said about me and Clarissa, isn't it? "What difference does it make?" I say sharply.

Zabini looks startled. Careful; I'd better be careful… "I mean, it's just Weasley," I say quickly. "He's a blood traitor already - who cares if he feels the need to prove it by marrying a Mudblood?"

"You may have a point there," Zabini says, his face smoothing out. "Certainly it's not as if he's from one of the _better_ families. That girl his oldest brother married is supposedly part veela - although I might be tempted to break the rules myself for a chance at something as gorgeous as she is."

"There's certainly nothing gorgeous about Granger," I say, and we both laugh, even though Granger's actually turned out to be almost good-looking - for a Mudblood.

"How was Warrington's party?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

Zabini shrugs. "It was all right, I suppose," he says. "Just the same old crowd, you know. Pansy was disappointed when you didn't show up - and so was little Miss Greengrass."

I have to think for a minute before I remember who he means. "Astoria, isn't it?" I say. "She's just a kid."

"She's sixteen," Zabini reminds me. "She'll be fair game in another year."

For some reason he's annoying me again, but I can't think why this time. "Maybe I should have gone," I say. "It's getting a bit boring just hanging about at home every night."

"There's no reason to do that," Zabini says at once. "I'm meeting up with Montague and Flint for drinks tonight. Why don't you come with me?"

Because Montague's an arrogant prat - he still goes on about being stuck in that Vanishing cabinet like it was something to be proud of. And Flint's even worse - what kind of an idiot gets left back because they can't pass History of Magic? "Yeah, okay," I say, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I feel.

Zabini pushes his chair back. "Around eight at the Dark Horse in Knockturn Alley," he says. "You'll have to excuse me, Malfoy, but those two have taken away what little appetite I had."

I look back at Weasley and Granger when he's gone. Granger looks like she's lecturing about something, and Weasley's staring at her with a vacant expression, clearly not listening to a word. Suddenly I miss Clarissa so much that I'm nearly sick with it. I push my plate aside and hurry out.

**Hermione**

"I don't mind helping," Michael Corner says. "But it would help if I knew what was going on."

"We're not sure ourselves," I say. "Just anything that looks odd or out-of-the-way."

"Hermione, it's a hospital," Michael says impatiently. "Nearly everything that happen here is odd." He nods at the line in front of the Welcome Witch. "Take a look at that lot and tell me which ones I ought to classify as _odd_."

I look obediently. A witch with what looks like a bouquet of tulips growing out of the back of her head is arguing with the Welcome Witch, but it's impossible to hear what she's saying because the wizard behind her is singing opera at the top of his lungs. "I do see what you mean," I admit. "Would it help if we narrowed it down to unusual circumstances involving suspected Death Eater sympathizers?"

"It might," Michael says. "Mind, I don't see everything that goes on - the trainees mostly get stuck with the routine jobs - but I've got access to the Admitting records."

"Perfect," I say eagerly. I hand him a list of names, copied from the one we found in _Fantastic Beasts_. "Any of these people, as well as any you might recognize yourself."

"Like Draco Malfoy," Michael says, grinning at me. "How do you want me to contact you?"

"With one of these," I say, holding out a coin.

"You and your Protean Charms," Michael says, making no move to take it from me. "This one isn't going to make me break out in boils or anything, is it?"

"That wasn't the coin," I remind him. "It was the parchment we all signed. And I _did_ warn people not to betray us."

Michael eyes me. "You can't make me believe you didn't take any precautions this time," he says. "You're too clever for that, Hermione."

Oh dear. So is Michael too clever - Hannah and Neville didn't give me this sort of trouble. "There's a sort of Fidelius Charm on the coin," I admit. "By accepting it, you agree to keep the secret, and you'll be unable to speak of this to anyone."

"Brilliant," Michael says approvingly. "You really should have been in Ravenclaw, Hermione." To my great relief, he finally reaches out and takes the coin from me.

He's the second person in two days to tell me that. I think back to my Sorting and smile to myself. "Tap it three times if you need to report something," I instruct. "One of us will be in touch."

Michael nods and slips the coin into the pocket of his lime-green robes. "I'd better go," he says. "I'm due on the wards in a few minutes."

I hesitate. "Do you need to ask me anything else?"

"Nope," Michael says, and grins at me again. "I reckon I can figure this out on my own - it'll give me something to think about when I have night duty."

Well, that's that. I head back to the Ministry. Nothing to do but wait, now. And Damaris still hasn't made an appearance, so I should be able to put the finishing touches on my Transfiguration essay this afternoon.

A wizard in dark blue robes is doing something to one of the corridor lamps as I step off the lift, and I suddenly remember Ron telling me something about Reg Cattermole being back. Now if I could just arrange for him to bump into Damaris…

But I can, of course. I do a quick Silencing Charm and then remove the bottom drawer from my desk. A few sharp kicks splinter the wood, and I shove it back into place to hide the damaged portion from view. Of course, Magical Maintenance is going to think I'm completely useless for not being able to manage a simple _"Reparo"_, but I can live with that if it provides me with an excuse for getting Reg Cattermole and Damaris in the same room. Assuming she _ever_ comes back to work, of course.

**Ron**

"You've got to talk to Dennis," Hermione reminded me at lunch. "You might just as well do it today and get it over with."

"I think Harry ought to come with me," I'd argued. "Dennis is more likely to listen to him - he hardly knows me."

"Of course he'll listen to you," Hermione said firmly. "Anyway, Harry can't go anywhere while he's still following Malfoy. And you don't want someone else to find Dennis first, do you?"

I'd given in at that one, but now I'm thinking better of it. I still don't think my opinion carries much weight with Dennis. And what am I going to tell him, anyway? Hermione thinks I'd better advise him to give himself up to the Ministry, but how can I tell Dennis to do something I wouldn't do myself?

I Apparate to Hogsmeade before I can think about it anymore. It's snowing - nothing new there - and there's hardly anybody about on the streets as I make my way to the Hog's Head.

The pub's empty when I walk in. "Hello?" I call. "Aberforth?" I can't remember what Dennis's new name is. "Er - Aberforth's cousin? Is anybody here?"

It looks weird in here. It looks… clean. Even the floor's been swept. I bend down to take a closer look at it and jump backwards as I see a pair of round eyes staring at me from under a table. It looks like a house-elf, but I don't remember Aberforth having one. "Hello?" I say to the eyes.

The elf creeps out from under the table. "Sir?" it whispers. "You is Harry Potter's friend that used to visit the kitchens, isn't you?"

It must be a girl elf - she's got a dress on, anyway. "Yeah," I say, looking harder. "It's Winky, isn't it?"

Winky nods rapidly. "Harry Potter's friend is so kind to remember Winky's name," she says.

"But what're you doing in here?" I ask. "I thought you worked at Hogwarts."

"Winky did, sir," Winky says. Tears well up in her eyes. "But it was so lonesome for Winky after Dobby was gone - Winky was so embarrassed to be the only Hogwarts house-elf with clothes, sir - so Winky has come to the Hog's Head."

I can't help thinking that working in a pub isn't exactly the best career move for an elf with Winky's butterbeer habit. "Er, do you like it here?" I ask.

"No, sir," Winky says unhappily. "But there isn't many places that will take in a house-elf what has been dismissed by her master, sir." She wipes a tear away and looks up at me hopefully. "Would Harry Potter's friend like something to eat?"

I just had lunch, but it might cheer Winky up to bring me something. It always makes Kreacher happy when we eat. "Have you got any of those little cakes with the cream filling?" I ask.

Winky beams at me. "Winky shall fetch them right away, sir," she says happily. "Did Harry Potter's friend wish to see Winky's master?"

Who? Oh, Aberforth. "Yeah, I would," I say, looking around. It seems like Winky and I are the only ones here.

"Master is feeding the goats with Master Aloysius," Winky says. "They should be back soon, sir."

_Aloysius?_ Poor Dennis. I walk over to the window and peer out. I can see two people down by the goat pen.

Winky's back with a tray. "Cakes, sir," she says, setting a huge plate in front of me. "And there is lots more in the kitchen if you finish these, sir."

I guess Winky really does remember me from when I used to visit the Hogwarts kitchen - there have to be at least a dozen cakes on the plate. "Thanks," I tell her, reaching for one.

The door's opening. "Oh, it's you," Aberforth says.

"Hi Aberforth," I say, swallowing the rest of my cake. "Hi, _Aloysius_."

Dennis-Aloysius turns red. "Hi," he mumbles, not looking at me. He doesn't look anything like the Dennis Creevey I remember - although to be honest I never really did spend a lot of time looking at him.

"Did you need something?" Aberforth says to me. "Or are you just here for the cake?"

"I need to talk to Den - er, Aloysius," I say. "It's sort of important."

Dennis sits down across from me, looking scared. "Have a cake," I offer, pushing the plate closer, but he shakes his head.

"I'm not going back," he says in a low voice. "And you can't make me."

"Shut up, will you!" I whisper. I pull out my wand and do a quick _Muffliato_ before he can say anything else bloody stupid. "That's not why I'm here." Well, it is, sort of, but I reckon it won't do to say so right off.

Aberforth sits down next to Dennis. "Hear him out, boy," he says gruffly.

I look at Dennis, wondering how to begin. "You know I'm an Auror now, right?" I say at last.

"You are?" Dennis says excitedly. "Wow, that's so cool! And Harry's one, too, right?"

"Yeah," I say, wishing Harry were here right now. "Anyway, one of the jobs they give us is to look for missing people, and yesterday I was told to look for you."

Dennis looks puzzled. "Mum and Dad won't have missed me," he protests. "Unless my spell wore off."

"It's not your mum and dad that are looking for you," I say. "It's the Improper Use of Magic Office."

Dennis gulps. "Underage magic," he says resignedly. "I thought all they did to you for that was expel you from school - and I wasn't allowed to go back anyway, so I thought it wouldn't matter."

"It wasn't just underage," I remind him. "It was an Unforgivable Curse."

"Am I going to prison?" Dennis whispers. His face is white.

Aberforth glares at me. "Course you're not," he snaps. "Not while I've still got a wand!"

"Just calm down, okay?" I say hastily. "I didn't come here to arrest Dennis. I just came to warn you, that's all."

"Nobody's going to find him here," Aberforth says.

"Maybe not," I say. "But the thing is, the Aurors don't just give up on finding people. If I go back and say I can't find Dennis, they'll just put someone else on it. It'll never be done with."

"Unless I give myself up," Dennis says.

"Or unless we can come up with a good enough story to satisfy them," Aberforth says unexpectedly. He snorts. "Aurors! Always sticking their noses in where they're not wanted."

"Thanks a lot," I say, grinning at him. "All right, what's your idea?"

"Expect me to come up with something just like that?" Aberforth demands. "This'll take some thinking about." He wanders toward the bar. "This'll take a firewhisky or two, I reckon. And you needn't be shy of those cakes - I baked 'em myself this morning."

He did? Bloody hell, I thought Winky made them. I wouldn't have eaten them if I'd thought they were Aberforth's - I'm not sure he's all that careful about washing his hands when he comes back from the goat pen.

Aberforth sees my expression and lets out a sharp bark of laughter. "Just having you on," he says. "Winky made them - she does all the cooking now."

I look over my shoulder to make sure Winky's still in the kitchen. "What's she doing here, anyway?" I ask.

Aberforth shrugs. "She showed up here one night about a month ago and said she'd come to be my house-elf. I didn't think we needed one, myself, but I couldn't throw her out in the streets. She makes herself useful enough, but it's a good deal too clean in here since she came. It's making my customers uncomfortable." He looks around moodily. "A place ought to feel lived-in." He sets a glass of firewhisky in front of me and hands Dennis a butterbeer. "Now," he says, lifting his own glass. "I think the best solution is to go back and tell them Dennis is dead. That'll settle the Improper Use of Magic lot."

"But I don't want to be dead," Dennis protests. "I'm only hiding till I'm seventeen."

"Well, you should've thought of that before you used an Unforgivable curse," Aberforth says matter-of-factly. "I don't blame you, mind - I'd have done the same myself." He glares at me again. "Something wrong with the firewhisky?"

"No, not at all," I say quickly, taking a cautious sip. The glass is sort of cloudy-looking - I guess Winky hasn't gotten to it yet - but maybe the alcohol will kill the germs. All the same, I don't think I'll mention it to Hermione. I look at Dennis. "I think Aberforth might be right," I tell him. "You're going to have to be dead - only maybe we can fix it so you don't have to stay that way."

"Huh?" Dennis says.

"Just be dead for now," I explain. "How old are you - fifteen?"

"Sixteen next week," Dennis says, still looking confused.

"So you'd have to hide for another year anyway," I say. "Meanwhile, I'll go back and tell them Dennis Creevey's dead. We'll have a whole year to figure out how to get the charges against you dismissed. And once we do, you can come back and say it was all just a big mistake and you're really alive."

Aberforth looks at me skeptically. "Just _how_ do you plan to go about getting those charges dismissed?" he asks.

"Dunno," I admit. "But Hermione might. If you give her enough time, she can figure out pretty much anything."

"Let's hope," Aberforth says. "I know Mafalda Hopkirk, and believe me, she's not one to take this sort of thing lightly."

I reckon Hermione knows her pretty well, too - sort of - but that story's too long to get into right now.

"I think it'll work," Dennis says eagerly. "Hermione's really clever, isn't she? Is she your girlfriend?"

"We're getting married after I finish my Auror training," I tell him.

Aberforth snorts again. "That's one trap I've managed to avoid," he says. "Take my advice, boy, and steer clear of marriage."

"I think it's brilliant," Dennis says, beaming at me. "Are you going to have a big wedding? I've never been to a wizard wedding before; is it different than a Muggle one? Do you think I could go to yours? I could go as Aloysius, couldn't I? Unless you wait and get married after I come back to life, that is."

I stare at him blankly. I don't even know which question to answer first.

"Never mind all that," Aberforth says, saving me. "We've got more important things to think about. How are we going to say Dennis died - and how are you going to prove it to that lot of fools at the Ministry?"

**Harry**

The clientele in the Dark Horse make the ones who used to hang out in the Hog's Head look positively harmless. I'm not afraid, of course - but I don't deny I'm glad to have the Invisibility Cloak. I'd considered using Polyjuice to turn into Montague or Flint, but what if one of them has the information I need? I reckon I'm better off just eavesdropping at this point. I make sure I'm completely covered and edge a little closer to Malfoy's table.

So far they haven't said anything worth listening to. Flint's complaining (again) because his father won't increase his allowance. I've noticed he's managed to avoid buying a round for the table so far, even though all the others have taken a turn. Montague's just finished a long and very boring story about some boots he's having made. Zabini, making no effort to hide his disinterest, is openly checking out every female in the place (although there aren't many of them). And Malfoy - Malfoy just looks uncomfortable. I'm afraid he's going to get fed up and leave before I learn anything - although it's looking more and more as if Flint and Montague don't know anything worth telling.

"Hey, there's Warrington!" Montague says, waving eagerly. "Over here!"

I move out of the way just in time to avoid being trampled by Warrington. He hasn't gotten any smaller.

"Have a seat," Flint invites. "Oh, and it's your round."

"Stop sponging," Warrington says to him harshly. He turns to Malfoy. "I understand you were looking for someone," he says.

Malfoy looks even more uncomfortable. "Yeah," he says in a low voice.

"You're making a mistake," Warrington tells him. "He's not important, you know."

Malfoy looks as taken aback as I feel. "What?" he says blankly.

Warrington shrugs. "Well, he's just sort of an errand boy these days, isn't he?" he says. "I mean, his lot was important last time - we all know that - but it's our turn now."

Bloody hell - I was right. Wait'll I tell Robards.

Malfoy looks startled to hear this, but manages to recover quickly. "Well, I know _that_, of course," he says. "I just - er - have something I need to ask him. Family business."

"Oh," Warrington says, raising his eyebrows at the others. "_Family_ business."

"Got a problem with that?" Malfoy asks challengingly.

Warrington hesitates just long enough for me to see the doubt in his eyes. "No," he says quickly. "I'm sure it can be arranged." He leans forward slightly and lowers his voice. "Does this mean you're with us?"

"Probably," Malfoy says coolly. "Depends what you've got in mind."

"Not here," Zabini says, suddenly paying attention again. "Don't say anything here."

Warrington nods. "My place, then," he says. "Let's go."

_No, stay here,_ I beg silently. I can't follow them to Warrington's place - I've no idea where he lives. I trail them hopefully through the Leaky Cauldron, but as I'd feared, they all Disapparate immediately.

I retreat into the alley and send Lurleen a Patronus asking her to notify me when Malfoy gets home. There's nothing else I can do here tonight.

**Hermione**

"But you _can't_ tell them he's dead," I protest.

Ron looks surprised. "Why can't I?" he demands. "It's the only thing that's going to put off the Improper Use of Magic lot."

"What about his parents, for heaven's sake?" I say. "Haven't they been through enough, losing Colin the way they did? Do you really want them to think their other son's dead too?"

Ron shifts uncomfortably on the sofa. "They haven't got to think it," he argues. "They're still under the Imperius Curse, aren't they?"

"I'm sure they're no such thing," I say firmly. "I doubt very much if the Ministry would just leave an Unforgivable Curse in place - especially one that was used against Muggles."

"Well, then why haven't they been after us?" Ron says triumphantly. "I don't think they realize Dennis is missing. Anyway, Perdita says Mrs. Creevey wrote a really horrible letter to Mafalda Hopkirk when Dennis's book list arrived last summer, so maybe the Ministry thought they'd better leave well enough alone till we found Dennis."

"Well, it's very irresponsible of them if they did," I say disapprovingly. Another thought strikes me. "You know, if Dennis really was dead, that curse would come off by itself."

Ron stares at me. "Oh, bloody hell," he whispers. "I never thought of that." He sighs. "Well, I'll just have to take the curse off them myself, if the Ministry hasn't done it already. We can wait a few days to kill off Dennis."

It seems to me there are quite a lot of flaws in this plan. "Ron, I really think - " I start.

"I nearly forgot to tell you," Ron says hastily. "Remember Winky? She lives at the Hog's Head now - only she doesn't like it."

I allow myself to be distracted briefly. "Oh, poor Winky," I say. "Doesn't she want to be at Hogwarts anymore?"

Ron shakes his head. "She said it was too lonely without Dobby," he explains. "I couldn't make out if she knew he was dead or not, but I reckoned I didn't want to be the one to tell her. You know how she gets crying, and with all that butterbeer around…"

"Well, exactly," I say. "The Hog's Head is not the place for Winky. Maybe I could find her something else."

"I think Aberforth would just as soon you did," Ron says. "He said something about it being too clean."

"That place has a long way to go before anyone could ever call it 'too clean'," I say. "I really think I'd better go and see Winky myself."

"I wish you would," Ron says eagerly. "Then you'll understand how it is about Dennis."

I _do_ understand - didn't I do almost the same thing to my own parents last year? Although it was really for their own protection - and I'd like to think I managed things a bit better than Dennis has. "I'll talk to him," I say warily. "But - "

I hear the front door opening. "There's Harry," Ron says, looking relieved. "You know, maybe he ought to talk to Dennis, too - after all, it was his idea."

But when Harry comes in, it's obvious that Dennis Creevey is the last thing on his mind. "We've got a change in plans," he says from the doorway. "First thing tomorrow, we've got to pull everyone off the names we've already assigned to them and give them new ones."

Ron and I both stare at him. "What new ones?" I ask, puzzled.

"Montague," Harry says, ticking them off. "Flint, Warrington, Zabini, Nott, Goyle… and it wouldn't hurt to have someone keep an eye on Pansy Parkinson, too." 


	20. Chapter 20

**Harry**

Robards hears me out without saying a word, but I can tell by his expression that he doesn't believe me.

"Preposterous," he says when I've finished. "They're barely qualified."

"I heard them myself," I argue. "Warrington said that Rodolphus was just an errand boy, and that his lot were running the whole show now."

"I don't doubt that's what you _heard_, Mr. Potter," Robards says coolly. "I am, however, questioning its veracity. Young Mr. Warrington lacks the mental capacity to run a Gobstones Club, let alone an army of Dark Wizards."

I can't help grinning at that one. "You're right about Warrington," I say. "None of the people who were there last night are what I'd call bright - except maybe Zabini, and I'm not sure he's all that involved - but they could be reporting to someone else, couldn't they?"

"They could," Robards agrees. "However, I'm inclined to think that Mr. Warrington and his friends are the ones acting in the capacity of what he referred to as 'errand boys'. I remain convinced that more experienced wizards - such as our friend Rodolphus - are at the helm."

"Maybe," I say, feeling _un_convinced myself. "But I would've liked to hear what they said to Malfoy last night."

Robards nods. "It's a pity you weren't able to follow them," he says. "Next time you must be better prepared, Mr. Potter."

I don't trust myself to speak. I just look at him.

Robards looks back, unruffled. "And where is Mr. Malfoy now?" he asks.

"At work, in the Broom Regulatory Control Office," I answer promptly. "He didn't get in till after midnight last night - I asked Lurleen to send me a Patronus - but he managed to show up on time this morning."

"Very well," Robards says. "At the first opportunity, you must - " A knock at the door stops him in mid-sentence. "Yes?"

Persimmon pokes her head in. "Sorry to disturb you, Gawain, but there's an owl here," she says, opening the door a bit wider.

I recognize Amber and immediately feel cheered up. Robards looks surprised when she flies straight to me and holds out her leg.

"Come back in about a half hour for my answer, okay?" I whisper to her, taking the letter. Amber blinks at me and flies off.

Robards eyes me sternly, but thankfully doesn't ask what's in my letter. "I believe we're finished here," he says. "Unless there's something else you wish to report, Mr. Potter?"

I shake my head.

"Very well," Robards says, dismissing me. "I think you'd better spend the morning reading up on the Lestranges. You seem to be under the impression that Rodolphus could be controlled by a group of schoolboys."

I slip off to a corner to read - not about the Lestranges, though. Ginny sounds happy - she loves the team; loves Holyhead - but she misses me.

_"…I've got a night and a day off starting tonight after practice,"_ the letter ends. _"I know it's awfully short notice, but do you think you could manage to get away for a few hours?"_

I can do better than that - I hope. "Persimmon?" I say, approaching her desk. "Could I have the files on the Lestranges, please?" If I'm going to ask for time off, I'd better get Robards in a good mood first.

**Hermione**

I can't believe I'm agreeing to do this. If it weren't for Winky… but helping house-elves is supposed to be my job, isn't it?

"I'll be gone all afternoon," I say, stopping in front of Miranda's desk. "There's an elf I need to check on."

Miranda grins at me. "And there's a sale at Madam Pearl's that _I've_ got to check on," she says. "I might just take an extra-long lunch, since you won't be needing me for anything. Wilton's got a committee meeting - he _says_. Personally I think he's going home to nap."

I almost forget about Wilton sometimes - he's scarcely ever here. "Have fun shopping," I say, starting for the door. "Are you looking for anything special?"

"Just a few things to take on holiday with me," Miranda says happily. "Don't forget, I'll be away next week."

I _had_ forgotten. I stare at her in dismay. "It's going to be awfully boring around here without you," I say. "Are you going with your boyfriend?"

"Him?" Miranda says, and laughs dismissively. "Hardly. Actually, I've been thinking of getting rid of him. I'm sure he's seeing someone else behind my back."

"Sorry," I say awkwardly.

Miranda shrugs. "I wasn't all that into him, anyway," she admits.

I try to think of something else to say. "Where are you going?" I ask. "Someplace nice?"

"Someplace very nice," Miranda says happily. "I'm going to a wizarding resort called Soleil in the south of France. I've never been, but everyone says it's brilliant."

Ron's waiting impatiently for me by the lift. "I was about to come and get you," he says. "Come on, Hermione, I'm starving."

It's barely noon - he can't be that hungry. "I was talking to Miranda," I explain. I lower my voice. "Things aren't going all that well between her and her boyfriend."

"Well, no surprises there," Ron says. "I mean, any bloke that'd let his girl wander round by herself on New Year's Eve…"

I suppose he's right, although it does occur to me that Ron wouldn't have thought anything of it a year ago. "Where do you want to have lunch?" I ask, changing the subject. "Here or in Hogsmeade?"

"Hogsmeade," Ron says promptly, reaching for my hand. "We can eat at the Hog's Head - ah, don't look at me like that, Hermione! I told you, it's _clean_ now - and anyway, Winky does all the cooking."

I'm pleasantly surprised, several minutes later, to discover that he's right. The interior of the Hog's Head is almost unrecognizable. "I didn't even know there _were_ windows in here," I whisper in Ron's ear. "They must have been absolutely filthy before."

"They were," Ron whispers back. "But I think Aberforth liked them that way."

The pub's nearly empty, even though it's lunch time. Aberforth's busy serving something rather scary-looking to two goblins. He glances over at us and scowls.

"He's pleased to see us, really," Ron says, but he doesn't sound all that confident.

"Where's Dennis?" I ask, looking around. I don't see him or Winky anywhere.

"He's called Aloysius now," Ron reminds me. "Poor bloke. I dunno where Winky is - kitchen, maybe?"

"I'm going to go and find her," I say, getting up. Aberforth's making no move to come over here, and I don't like the way those goblins keep looking at us. "Coming?"

"I reckon that's the only way we'll get any food around here," Ron says, following me into the kitchen. He lowers his voice. "What's old Ab's problem?"

I shrug. Aberforth's always been strange.

"Harry Potter's friend has come back!" a voice says happily. "And he has brought Harry Potter's other friend with him! Welcome, sir - welcome, miss!"

I turn to find Winky beaming at us from a corner. "Has you come back for more of Winky's cakes, sir?" she asks Ron.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Ron says, pleased. "And some sandwiches, too, if you don't mind - and maybe a pot of tea - and - "

"Enough," I whisper, elbowing him.

"She likes doing it," Ron whispers back, unrepentant.

I watch Winky as she bustles around the tiny kitchen. She certainly looks much better than she did the last time I saw her. She's sober, for one thing, and her clothing, while decidedly odd, is at least clean. In a matter of seconds she sets a full meal on the rickety table for us.

"Excellent," Ron says approvingly, pulling up a chair. "Thanks, Winky."

Winky looks at me anxiously. I sit down, too. "Everything looks wonderful," I say, helping myself to a sandwich. "How do you like it here, Winky?"

Winky looks troubled. "Not so much, Miss," she admits after a second. "But here Winky is, and here Winky must stay."

"You don't have to stay here," I say. "I could help you find another place, if you like."

Winky gives me a puzzled look. "Miss is in need of a house-elf?" she asks.

"Well, not exactly," I say. Goodness knows Kreacher could use the help - he's not getting any younger - but I have a feeling he'd be insulted if I brought another house-elf into Grimmauld Place. "But I could find you a nice home. I work for the House-Elf Relocation Office, you know."

Winky's reaction takes me by surprise. "Those is bad people, Miss!' she whispers, looking terrified. She catches herself abruptly. "Winky should not have said that - bad Winky - "

Ron grabs her just as she's about to bash her head against the side of the table. "You're not bad," I say firmly. "But neither are the people in the House-Elf Office, you know. We're there to help you."

Winky looks at me dubiously. "You do believe me, don't you?" I persist.

"Winky knows that Miss is good," Winky says finally. "Winky thinks maybe Miss doesn't know - Winky can't tell her - " She falls silent again and stares at me with huge, frightened eyes.

I wonder if this has something to do with her empty file. I'll bet they were awful to her over that whole business with Crouch.

"Tell her what?" Ron says, reaching for another sandwich. Honestly, nothing ever seems to affect his appetite.

Winky's not talking, though. "Winky can't say," she says, turning back to the stove. "And Winky must stay at the Hog's Head."

Ron looks at me and shrugs. "Where's Aloysius, Winky?" he asks, pulling the plate of cakes toward himself.

"Master Aloysius is practicing his spellwork," Winky answers, clearly relieved at the change in subject. "Shall Winky fetch him, sir?" She hurries out at Ron's nod.

"Well, we weren't going to get any sense out of her," Ron says, before I can speak. "Maybe Aberforth knows what's going on."

"I wouldn't be surprised if Damaris has something to do with all this," I say. "Winky's file is empty, did I tell you that?"

Ron looks mystified. "What file?" he asks.

Before I can answer, the door opens. I suppose it's Dennis, although he certainly looks different. He's much taller, for one thing. "Let me talk to him alone," I whisper.

"Hi Hermione," Dennis says eagerly. "Did you think of something already? Only maybe you'd better do that charm thing before you tell me."

_"Muffliato,"_ Ron says, before I can ask.

Oh. Well, it's just as well - I really _didn't_ like the way those goblins were looking at us. I look at Ron. "Didn't you say you wanted a word with Aberforth?" I ask meaningfully.

"I wouldn't," Dennis warns. "Not unless there're a lot more people in the pub than yesterday. He's not all that happy about losing so much business lately."

"Goodness, why is he losing business?" I ask, diverted. "I'd think that with the place being so much cleaner and all - "

"Well, that's just it," Dennis explains. "Ab's regular clientele liked it being dark and gloomy in here. They're not so hot on the idea of people being able to see them though the windows - only Winky keeps cleaning them."

Aberforth could put up shutters - but I suppose it's a bit much to expect. "Well…" I say uncertainly. I look at Ron again.

"I've got a few errands to run," Ron says, getting the idea. "I'll meet you back here in about an hour."

**Draco**

There he is again. "Don't you think it's time you got a life?" I say. I keep walking, hoping he'll take the hint.

"Want to have lunch with me?" Potter asks.

I stop walking to stare at him. "You can't possibly be serious."

"No, of course not," Potter says, grinning. "But we really do need to talk."

"I haven't seen him yet," I say, exasperated. "I mentioned it to a few people and they're going to see what they can arrange, but these things take time, you know." I haven't decided how much I'm going to tell Potter yet. I decide to throw him a bone. "Your girlfriend's in Holyhead, isn't she?" I say.

"Why?" Potter asks sharply.

I shrug. "No reason. I just heard someone mention it, that's all." There - if he's such a brilliant Auror, he can figure that one out on his own.

Potter looks like he doesn't believe me, but there's not much he can do about it, is there? "Look, Malfoy," he says after a minute. "You're going to have to trust me a bit more." He leans in. "What about Clarissa?" he says in a low voice. "Are you going to let her killers get away with it?"

"Just shut up about her!" I snap. "You don't understand anything!" I break away, walking fast. To my relief, he doesn't follow me.

**Ron**

I've got an hour on my hands, so I decide I might as well go round to all the Hogsmeade shops and ask if anyone's seen Dennis. Obviously no one has - he's been Aloysius the whole time he's been here - but it'll give me something to say when Perdita asks for my report.

I start out at Honeydukes, mostly because it's my favorite. It's weird to see it so empty - every time I've ever been in it's been packed with kids. There's Mrs. Honeyduke behind the counter. I don't think that's her real name, but that's what we always called her.

Mrs. Honeyduke looks up and smiles when I come in. "I remember you," she says. "You're one of the Weasley boys, aren't you?"

"I'm Ron," I say, eying the boxes of chocolate piled up in front of her.

"These are for Valentine's Day," Mrs. Honeyduke explains. "It's coming up, you know!"

Valentine's Day's not for ages, but I love Honeydukes' chocolate. Maybe I ought to get one of those boxes for Hermione. Or one of those candy roses… I suddenly remember why I'm there and pull Dennis's photograph out of my pocket. "I work for the Auror Department now, and we're looking for a runaway," I say. "Have you seen this boy anywhere?"

Mrs. Honeyduke leans forward to see. "Why, that's little Dennis Creevey," she says at once. "He and his brother used to come in here all the time. Shame about that poor little Colin, wasn't it?" She blinks away a tear. "I never saw a pair of kids so excited about candy as those two were about my Peppermint Toads and Fizzing Whizbees."

I don't want to disappoint her by telling her that Dennis and Colin got that excited about pretty much everything. "Dennis's mum and dad didn't want him to come back to Hogwarts after what happened to Colin," I say instead. "So he ran away from home." I decide I'd better leave out the part about him Imperiusing them.

"Poor little lad," Mrs. Honeyduke says, taking the photograph from me and smoothing the creases. Dennis's picture waves at her enthusiastically. "And you think he came here?"

"Well, not here to your shop," I say, although it occurs to me that it wouldn't be a bad place for a kid to run away to. He could hide in the cellar and eat all the candy he wanted. "But we thought he might have stopped in Hogsmeade."

"I haven't seen him since last year," Mrs. Honeyduke says, handing the photograph back. "But if I do, I'll be sure to send you an owl." She shakes her head. "The poor little lad," she says again. "I hope he had somewhere to go - this is no weather to be outside in."

Mrs. Honeyduke seems to be under the impression that Dennis just ran away recently. I decide not to correct her. Plenty of people probably know that Aberforth's "cousin" has been living with him for a few months, so the less connections anybody can make between Aloysius and Dennis, the better. "Well, thanks," I say, shoving the photograph back in my pocket. "I'd better go and ask in a few other places, just to be sure. Oh, and maybe I'd better take one of those boxes of chocolates."

I try the next few places and get pretty much the same reaction at all of them. Everyone seems to remember Dennis, but no one's seen him since last year.

I hesitate for a few minutes outside Madam Puddifoot's. I've never actually been in there, but Harry has and he said it was pretty awful. Lavender used to nag me to take her, but I always got out of it. (It's funny - if Hermione wanted me to take her here, I'd probably do it, but luckily it's not her sort of place at all.) Still, it's the middle of the week - it can't be that bad, can it?

I open the door cautiously and peek in. It smells like the sort of perfume I hate. (And they serve food here, don't they? How the hell is anyone supposed to eat when it smells like this?) Everything in the whole room seems to be either pink or purple, even the tablecloths. Madam Puddifoot's certainly not very busy today - I only see two customers sitting at the far end of the room. The girl's got her back to me, but the bloke with her looks sort of familiar. He's holding up a menu so I can't quite see his face but -

Bloody hell. What is Blaise Zabini doing here? And who's that with him? I think about going in and ordering a coffee, just to see what he'll do, but I don't want Zabini to know I'm in Hogsmeade. The last thing we need is for him to go sneaking around trying to find out what I was doing here. I step backwards carefully and ease my way out.

I stand in the street for a minute, thinking about it. I could wait round the corner and watch where he goes.

Zabini takes his bloody time. It's nearly a half-hour later when he comes out - alone. I start after him, but he Disapparates almost immediately. I run back to Madam Puddifoot's and jerk the door open, but the restaurant's empty.

"May I help you, dear?" a woman's voice says. I look up. It must be Madam Puddifoot herself - she looks exactly like her name.

"I'm afraid we're closed at the moment, but we'll re-open at four," Madam Puddifoot's saying. "Would you like to make a reservation?"

"Huh?" I say. "Oh - er, no. Not right now. I'll come back later." I escape into the street again. Where did the girl go, I wonder? Out the back? Or maybe she works there. Maybe I should've made a reservation - only I don't think I could choke down a meal in that place.

I decide to go back to the Hog's Head. Maybe Hermione can figure it out. I hope Aberforth hasn't got fed up - she's been there for ages now.

Aberforth doesn't look fed up at all when I get there, though - he looks as close to happy as I've ever seen him. He's sitting at a table in the bar with Hermione and Dennis, and he's actually laughing at something Dennis is saying.

Hermione looks up and sees me. "Come and sit down," she invites, patting the chair next to her. "Goodness, your hands are freezing. What on earth have you been doing?"

"Standing in an alley," I say, truthfully enough. I hand her the chocolate box. "Here, I got these for you."

"Thanks," Hermione says, opening it. "Have you left me any?"

"I left a few," I say defensively. I got hungry, standing about waiting for Zabini. I look at the others. "Er, have you worked everything out?"

Hermione rolls her eyes. I guess that means no. I could've told her Dennis was going to be stubborn about this one.

"We've agreed I'm not going to be dead _yet_," Dennis says to me. "Only I will be if I have to. But for now we'd like you to just keep stalling, if you wouldn't mind. Hermione's going to do some research and see if she can think of a way to get me off."

"I don't mind," I say, wondering when Hermione's planning to find time to do extra research on top of all her schoolwork and the house-elves. "But it's only a matter of time before they put someone else on it."

"Well, so what?" Aberforth says. He sounds like he's had a couple of firewhiskeys. "No one's going to find him, because he doesn't exist anymore."

_"Muffliato,"_ I say quickly, even though the bar's empty.

"I did that the second we sat down," Hermione says. "And anyway, no one's here."

Aberforth looks around gloomily. "It doesn't hurt to be careful," I say, before he can comment. "Besides, I saw Blaise Zabini in town today."

Hermione looks startled. "Where?" she demands. "What was he doing?"

"Sitting in Madam Puddifoot's with a girl," I say. "I couldn't tell who she was - her back was to me. But he came out without her and Disapparated."

"I never liked that one," Aberforth says, almost to himself. "I don't like people who play both sides."

"What about the girl?" Hermione asks. "Where did she go?"

"Dunno," I say. "I went back inside and looked for her, but the place was empty. I thought maybe she worked there."

Aberforth shakes his head. "Madam Puddifoot doesn't have any pretty young waitresses," he says positively. "I heard her tell Rosmerta it wouldn't do to have her male customers flirting with the staff instead of with their dates."

"Maybe she's not pretty," I offer. "I only saw her from the back."

"Ron, she was with Blaise Zabini," Hermione reminds me. "He'd never date anyone who wasn't good-looking."

Good point. "Anyway, watch out for him," I say to Dennis and Aberforth. "I don't know what he's up to, but I'll bet it's nothing good."

Aberforth snorts. "I pity him if he comes in here," he says. "Not that anyone comes in here, these days." He turns to Hermione. "Now, about my other problem," he says.

What other problem? Oh - Winky. "I'll see what I can do," Hermione's saying. "But she seems to have some reason for thinking she needs to stay here. You might try and find out what it is."

Aberforth looks doubtful. "It's not easy getting sense out of 'em even when they're not frightened half to death," he grumbles. "But I'll see what I can do."

"I'll try," Dennis says eagerly. "I like Winky."

Hermione and I get up to go. "What do you think?" she asks, once we're outside. "Do you want to walk around some more and see if you spot that girl Zabini was with?"

"I wouldn't recognize her even if she came right up to me," I point out. "Anyway, it's freezing. Let's go home."

**Harry**

Malfoy's remark about Ginny has me so worried that I can't concentrate on the Lestrange files. Of course, it could've just been a random comment, but somehow I don't think so. Malfoy doesn't do random - everything he says to me seems to be planned out ahead of time.

I shove the file aside and knock on Robards' door. "Would it be all right if I took a bit of time off?" I ask, before he can ask me what I've learned about the Lestranges.

Robards doesn't even look up from whatever he's reading. "How much time is 'a bit'?" he asks with a sigh.

"Just till late tomorrow afternoon," I say hopefully. "I've got it all worked out. I'll follow Malfoy to make sure he goes straight home from work. Lurleen'll send me a Patronus if he goes out again. Then I thought I could ask Ron or someone to keep an eye on him tomorrow - it's no big deal since he never leaves the Ministry during the day. I'd be back by the time he gets off work."

Robards looks thoughtfully at me, and for a minute I'm sure he's going to say no. "I'll Apparate straight back if I get a message from Lurleen, of course," I add quickly.

Robards sighs again. "Very well, Mr. Potter," he says, to my complete amazement. "You have twenty-four hours. But I believe I'll accompany Mr. Malfoy to the office myself tomorrow morning. Mr. Weasley needs to concentrate on finding the Creevey boy. We're under extreme pressure from the Improper Use of Magic Office on this one."

"Thanks," I say, hurrying to leave before he can change his mind. But I stop in the doorway. "What're they going to do to Dennis when Ron finds him?" I ask.

Robards shrugs. "That is not our affair," he says. "However, the use of an Unforgivable Curse - especially on Muggles - is extremely serious."

"He's just a kid, though," I protest.

"He'll have a chance to present his case to the Wizengamut," Robards says indifferently. "Was there something else, Mr. Potter?"

"No," I say, getting the hell out of there. Poor Dennis. I wonder if Hermione's talked him into giving himself up yet.

She hasn't, I discover ten minutes later. "The best I could do was to talk him out of that ridiculous plan of pretending to be dead," Hermione says, setting her Arithmancy book aside. "I'm going to do some research and see if I can find any similar cases - you know, like we did with Buckbeak."

I hope she'll have better luck than we did that time. I reach for a box of Honeydukes' chocolates that's sitting on the table, but it's empty. "Too late - Hermione ate them," Ron says.

"I ate the two you left," Hermione corrects. "Guess what, Harry - Ron saw Blaise Zabini in Hogsmeade."

"You did?" I'm in a hurry to get to Ginny, but I sit down anyway. "Where?"

Ron explains, but it doesn't make much sense to me. "We've got to get someone to follow Zabini," I say. "We'll find out what he's up to."

Ron and Hermione exchange a look. "What?" I say.

"Harry, people have jobs," Hermione says. "They can't just dash off after other people whenever they want to. It's one thing to ask someone like Ernie or Susan to keep an eye on someone in their own Department, but - "

Okay, good point. I look hopefully at Ron. "I'll try," Ron says dubiously. "I guess I could follow him while I'm supposed to be out looking for Dennis."

"Since you already know where Dennis is, it'll give you something to do," I point out. I stand up again. "Well, I'm off to Holyhead. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon."

"I'll bet it's raining there," Ron says, yawning.

He's right, as it turns out, but I don't care. I arrive at the Quidditch field just as practice is ending. Ginny sees me and comes flying over.

"I'm all muddy," she warns, but I pull her into my arms anyway.

**Rodolphus**

"The Malfoy boy wants to see you," she says.

I stare at her, astounded. "He _wants_ to see me?" I repeat. "Is the boy mad?"

"Quite possibly," she says with a shrug. "There's a strain of madness in the Blacks, isn't there? Your own wife - "

"Narcissa's sane enough, and she's the boy's mother," I say, cutting her off. "What does he want?"

"Well, I expect you'll find out, won't you?" she says coolly. "See that you take the opportunity to remind him that he has something that doesn't belong to him."

I'm silent for a moment, thinking. "What if he's changed his mind?" I ask. "Perhaps he's come to his senses and decided to join us."

She considers. "All the better if he has," she says at last. "We can use him. But if you suspect for one moment that he's untrustworthy, then kill him. He's not worth the risk. And Potter's been awfully interested in him lately - I don't like it."

"That's just the Aurors nosing about because of the Clarke girl," I protest. "Potter doesn't have a clue about what's happening - none of them do. They all want to pretend it's over."

She smiles coldly. "It's never going to be over," she says. "We'll take care of Potter in time, but I don't want to draw attention to us just yet. His girlfriend's his weak point - I've got a plan in place just in case he starts getting too close."

"Be careful, Talitha," I say uneasily. "It's too much like the other one."

"Don't call me that!" she snaps. "No one knows me by that name now. Anyway, the last time was all your fault. Of all the idiotic mistakes - "

"Getting rid of that blood traitor girl was the smartest move we could have made," I argue. "She was clever - she would have figured out what was going on eventually. And he knows we mean business now."

"Don't act like you did it on purpose," she says, but she looks amused. "It was a lucky mistake on your part. Do you really think you can trust him?"

"We'll all be watching him," I remind her. "He won't have a chance to betray us. And if he does - " I make a slicing motion across my throat.

"All right," she says at last. "I won't deny we can use him. But mind you keep a close eye on him - and get him to turn it over to you, at once! It belongs to me, after all - I'm Rabastan's daughter."

His _unacknowledged_ daughter - and he was my brother, after all. But I don't say so. It takes very little to set her off these days. "I'll take care of it right away," I promise. 

**Harry**

I'm waiting for Ginny to come out of the changing room when I hear raised voices. I draw back against the side of the building and strain to hear. One of them sounds like Gwenog Jones.

"… just don't see any reason for it," she's saying furiously. "It's absolutely ridiculous!"

The other person - a witch, I think - answers, but her voice is inaudible. I pull the Invisibility Cloak out of my pocket and take a few cautious steps closer.

"Fine," Gwenog says, clearly frustrated. "Do whatever you like."

"You mustn't feel singled out," the other woman says. I don't recognize her voice at all.

"No?" Gwenog says sarcastically. "Which other teams in the league are you doing this with, Xanthia?"

_Xanthia?_ Xanthia Davis? I don't dare get any closer, but it's too dark for me to be able to see her clearly anyway. Out of the corner of my eye I see the door of the changing room start to open. I hurry over, grab Ginny's hand in the darkness, and pull her under the Cloak. She looks startled, but nods silently when I put a finger to my lips.

I've missed Xanthia's answer - Gwenog's speaking again. "I can't talk about this anymore right now," she's saying. "I'm far too annoyed - and I might say something I'll regret later. Good night, Xanthia."

Ginny looks at me, wide-eyed, and I shrug. Gwenog takes a few steps and Disapparates. Xanthia follows close behind her.

"Can I talk now?" Ginny whispers.

I take a quick look around and pull the Cloak off both of us. "Not here," I whisper back. In my normal voice, I add casually, "Is there a good place to have dinner around here?"

"There's only one wizarding pub in the area, and it's usually pretty crowded," Ginny answers, taking her cue from me. "Why don't we just go back to my flat? We can make something there, can't we?"

Ginny's flat - invisible to anyone but a wizard - is tucked between two buildings on a Muggle street near the harbor.

"I'm sharing this place with Jacintha and Gloria," Ginny says, opening the door. "But neither one of them is here. They both left right after practice to go home for their day off tomorrow."

I remember her mentioning their names before. I think Jacintha's the Keeper and Gloria's one of the Chasers - or maybe it's the other way around. "Lucky for us," I say, and Ginny smiles at me.

"I can't believe it's only been a few days," she says. "It feels like forever since you've kissed me."

It's been about fifteen minutes by my watch, but I know what she means. "Come here, then," I say, reaching for her.

"Now," Ginny says, several minutes later. "What was all that business outside the changing room?"

_"Muffliato,"_ I say cautiously.

"We're alone," Ginny points out. "And the door's locked."

"That reminds me," I say. "What sort of protection charms have you got on this place?"

"None, of course," Ginny says. "Well, except for the usual Muggle-Repelling ones."

I look at her, exasperated. "What?" Ginny says. "The war's _over_, Harry. My flatmates would think I was paranoid if I started insisting on all sorts of crazy charms."

"So blame it on me," I say. "Tell them your boyfriend's in Auror training and you're helping him test out charms. That'd work, wouldn't it?"

After some consideration, Ginny agrees that it would. "You're sweet to worry about me like that," she says, patting my hand. "But honestly, Harry, I'm not in any danger."

I don't want to frighten her, but I don't want her getting careless, either. Briefly, I tell her about my conversation with Malfoy.

"I really think he was just winding you up," Ginny says. "You know how Malfoy is. But if it makes you feel better, I promise to be careful."

"It does," I say firmly. "Here, watch while I show you how to protect your flat."

"Not bad," Ginny says, when I've finished going through the charms. "Did you learn those from the Aurors?"

"No, from Hermione," I admit.

Ginny laughs. "I've simply got to have a shower so I can wash this mud out of my hair," she says. "There's wine in that cupboard while you're waiting… unless you'd like to join me?"

She doesn't have to ask twice. I throw a final protection charm in the general direction of the door and follow her.

**Hermione**

"These books aren't much help," Ron says, throwing a thick volume aside. "According to this one, every single wizard who's ever used an Unforgivable Curse against a Muggle has ended up in Azkaban - no exceptions."

"Even the underaged ones?" I ask. "It seems to me they might go a bit easier on kids."

"There aren't any cases with kids," Ron says. "Dennis is an original - or anyway, he's the first one to get caught."

I pick up the book he was looking at. "This was published nearly fifty years ago," I point out. "Where on earth did you find it?"

"It was in a bookcase in one of the upstairs bedrooms," Ron says.

I brighten. "Bookcase?"

"There was nothing else there except some old cookery books and a whole series of Fifi LaFolle," Ron says. "The only person I know who reads those is my Auntie Muriel."

"Oh," I say, losing interest in the bookcase. "Well, maybe you'd have better luck in Magical Records."

"Maybe," Ron says doubtfully. He puts his arm around me. "I could have a look tomorrow - only Harry wants me to follow Zabini. Hey, maybe Ernie'd do it for me. You said he was bored, didn't you?"

"Just be careful what you tell him," I warn. "I trust Ernie, but he's awfully law-abiding."

"So did you used to be," Ron says. "Till Harry and I corrupted you. But I'll be careful. I reckon that Zabini business is going to take all day."

"How are you going to find Zabini to follow him?" I ask doubtfully. "It's not like he has a job."

"No idea," Ron admits. "Maybe I'll just hang around Knockturn Alley."

I give him a look. "I'll be in disguise," he argues. "It's perfectly safe. That reminds me - can you show me how to disguise myself like you did when we broke into Gringotts? Only you'd better not make me be that foreign bloke again - a goblin might see me."

"I will - as soon as I finish this," I say, picking up my Arithmancy book again. I've still got two chapters of Herbology to read after this - and I ought to practice Disillusionment Charms, too.

Ron eyes the stack of books next to me. "Maybe I'll go and give George a hand for a couple of hours," he says. "You don't mind being on your own, do you?"

"Not at all," I say, a little too promptly.

Ron laughs, kisses me, and goes.

Naturally, I can't concentrate after he's gone. It's too quiet. I can hear the clock ticking, and Kreacher shuffling back and forth from the kitchen. Crookshanks pauses in the doorway, sees that I'm alone, and leaps up onto the sofa next to me.

"I wanted time to study," I say crossly to Crookshanks. "And now I can't do it."

Crookshanks yawns and settles down next to me for a nap. I open my Arithmancy again and manage to struggle through till the end. Now for Herbology… only it's not here. I must have left it in the office.

It's only half-past seven. I hesitate, but only for a second. I expect I'll be back long before Ron, but just in case, I scribble a quick note for him.

It's still fairly early, but the Ministry's nearly deserted. The Atrium is dim, and a lone guard sits at the security desk. He nods, recognizing me, and I head for the lift.

The House-Elf Relocation office is locked, of course, but a simple _Alohomora_ opens the door. (Really, I'm not sure why anyone bothers - we all learned that charm as first-year students.) There's my Herbology book - right on my desk where I left it. I grab it and hurry out. I know I'm being silly, but it's a bit spooky in here at night.

I press the button for the lift again impatiently. Honestly, this is ridiculous. I got off on this floor not five minutes ago, and I'm sure I didn't hear anyone else ring for the lift. It ought to be right here. Only it isn't.

_Maybe it's broken,_ I think. (Oh, if only I could make sure Damaris was in the area when Reg Cattermole comes to repair it tomorrow!) Never mind - I'll take the stairs. It's only four flights, after all.

The stairwell's pitch-dark - the lamps must have gone out. I light my wand and start up. My footsteps echo strangely - it almost sounds as though someone's following me. _Don't be ridiculous,_ I tell myself sternly. _There's no one here._ I stop abruptly in the middle of a flight, and the other footsteps (the other _person's_ footsteps?) stop too.

"Hello?" I call. My voice sounds weak and frightened, and I can't help feeling a bit annoyed with myself. "Hello!" I say again, more authoritatively. "Who's there?"

There's no answer - but I swear I can hear someone breathing. Someone not too far away from me. I fire a Bodybind Curse down the stairs behind me and watch as it bounces harmlessly off the wall. From somewhere below me, I hear a soft laugh.

I lose my head completely and race up the stairs as fast as I can. I can hear the footsteps pounding after me. As I wrench open the door to the lobby, something catches at the back of my robe.

**Ron**

"I think you're reading too much into it," George says. "Zabini was probably on a date with some Slytherin girl from Hogwarts, that's all."

"It was the middle of the week," I protest.

"Seventh-years get a lot more freedom," George says. "Not that either one of us would know - but I've heard Bill and Charlie say so. If a seventh-year girl went to her Head of House and asked special permission to go to Hogsmeade to have tea with her boyfriend, she'd more than likely be allowed to do it."

"I'll bet McGonagall wouldn't have let one of us," I say, unconvinced.

"Well, of course not," George says. "We were always up to no good, weren't we? But from what you've said about Slughorn, I'll bet he wouldn't think twice."

I think about it. George is right - Slughorn wouldn't care. Especially if the girl was going to meet someone from his precious Slug Club. "Maybe," I admit. "Anyway, if I'm following Zabini, I'm bound to figure it out." I look hopefully at George. "I don't suppose you've got any idea what he does all day, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," George says, surprising me. "He spends most of his time in Diagon Alley, as near as I can make out."

"Doing what?" I ask, puzzled. I like Diagon Alley, but there's not much to do here besides shop and eat.

"Well, first he visits all the clothing shops," George says. "After that he generally drops in on his tailor. Then he usually has a look at the new boots at the shoe shop before moving on to the jeweler's. Oh, and twice a week he goes to Madam Jolie's House of Beauty for a manicure."

I can't help feeling rather disgusted with Zabini. "What a prat!" I say.

"Well, exactly," George says. "But he'll be easy enough to find. Why not try on some new dress robes tomorrow? You'll need something special for that wedding Mum keeps planning."

"Shut up," I say, alarmed. "She's not really already planning it, is she?"

George grins at me. "I had dinner there last night, and she told me all about the letter she'd written to Hermione's mum," he says.

Oh, bloody hell - that's all we need. "I told Hermione we ought to elope," I say, half to myself.

"It's not too late," George says cheerfully. He leans forward and lifts one of my hands, inspecting the nails. "You know, maybe you ought to give that manicure thing a try," he says. "Those are not the hands of a bride-groom, if you ask me."

"Shut up," I say again, pulling my hand away. I don't mind spending a day - _one_ day, anyway - hanging about the shops, but I'll be damned if I'll get a manicure just to keep Zabini in sight. Harry and my brothers would never let me hear the end of it. Well, maybe tomorrow's not one of his Madam Jolie days - George did say it was only twice a week.

George looks at his watch. "Are you going to be here much longer?" he asks politely.

"What?" I say, startled. "I thought you wanted help getting all those Love Potions into the window for your Valentine's Day display."

"Someone's helping me," George says, not looking at me.

I stare at him. "Who?" I demand. "Have you hired someone? It's not bloody Percy, is it?"

"No," George says. "Angelina's coming round to give me a hand."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Really?"

"It's not like that," George says, annoyed. "We're friends, that's all."

"Right," I say, drifting toward the door. "I used to think that about me and Hermione, too."

I leave before George can find anything to throw at me. I might as well go home. Maybe Hermione's done with her homework by now. Harry's away… we'll have the sitting room all to ourselves…

Hannah waves me over as I'm passing through the Leaky Cauldron. "I'm glad you're here," she says in a low voice. "I wasn't sure if I ought to use my coin or not."

_"Muffliato,"_ I say quickly. "What's going on?"

"Warrington and Nott - you remember them from school? - were in here a little while ago," Hannah says. "They were at that table over there - " She points, and I turn and look, even though they're obviously long gone. "Anyway, when I was bringing their drinks over, I heard Nott say something about why not use the Ministry after hours, and Warrington told him not to be stupid, it was too well-guarded these days."

She stops and looks at me expectantly. "And then what?" I prompt.

"Well, then they saw me and stopped talking," Hannah says apologetically. "I couldn't just stand there without it being really obvious. Anyway, they didn't stay long - and they didn't leave a tip, either."

"The Ministry after hours," I repeat slowly. Warrington's almost right - they have security guards now, but they can't be everywhere at once. If someone was careful enough, they might get away with whatever it is they're planning.

"Neville says your brother has something called Extendable Ears in his joke shop," Hannah says. "But I don't know… people might notice them."

"I could make them invisible," I offer. (Or Hermione could, anyway.) "Tell you what, I'll bring you a pair tomorrow and we can try them out."

Hannah nods thoughtfully. "Invisible might work," she says.

"That was pretty smart of Neville," I offer.

Hannah looks pleased. "He really is awfully clever," she says eagerly. "He's absolutely brilliant at Herbology, you know."

Herbology makes me think of Hermione. "I've got to go," I say. "Thanks for the help, Hannah."

But the sitting room's empty - and so's our room. I'm about to go ask Kreacher where Hermione is when I find the note. The Ministry - she's gone to the Ministry? _Alone?_ I remember what Hannah said and feel suddenly worried. Not that I think anyone's actually there, of course - I just don't like Hermione being on her own like that. Maybe I ought to go and meet her.

I've been in the Ministry at night before, but it always feels a bit weird. There's the guard, sitting at his desk. He looks up and gives me a wave before returning to his _Daily Prophet_. I take a few steps in his direction. "Have you seen - " I start, just as the door to the stairwell bursts open.

"Ron!" Hermione gasps and flings herself at me. I just about manage to stay on my feet.

The guard grins at me. "She always that pleased to see you, mate?" he asks.

I ignore him. Something's wrong. "Hermione?" I ask, pushing her hair out of the way so I can see her face. "What is it?"

"On the stairs," Hermione whispers, clinging to me. "Someone was following me - they almost caught me."

The guard turns serious all at once. "Someone was chasing you, Miss?" he repeats. "We'll see about that!" He pulls the door to the stairs open.

"The lights don't work," Hermione says in almost her normal voice. "I couldn't see who it was."

"The lights are all out," the guard announces, like he's making an important discovery. He frowns. "That's not right. Think they're broken?"

"Let me try," I say, pulling the Deluminator out of my pocket. One click and the whole stairwell's lit up. We can see all the way to the bottom.

"There's no one there, Miss," the guard says. Captain Obvious, isn't he? "Maybe you just imagined it. Them stairwells have funny echoes sometimes."

"I did not imagine it," Hermione says firmly. "I heard them breathing - and someone grabbed at my cloak as I was opening the door."

I pull her a bit closer. "They could be on any floor by now," I say, looking at all of the closed doors on the stairwells.

"Better use the lift from now on," the guard's advising.

"I pressed the button and it never came," Hermione says. "I thought maybe it wasn't working properly."

The guard crosses to the lift gate and presses the button. The doors slide open instantly. "Works all right now," he says with a shrug.

I step into the stairwell, looking down. "Hang on," I say. "What's that?"

"Don't go down there alone!" Hermione says, clinging to my arm. "What if he's hiding behind one of those doors?"

Fine. "_Accio,_ er - thing on the stairs," I say. It comes zooming at me and I put up a hand to catch it.

"Bit of parchment, is it?" the guard says, losing interest. "Ah, those cleaners - they'll swear they swept the whole stairwell, but they're always missing things, aren't they?"

I smooth the scrap out in my hand. It's not parchment, exactly. It's a piece of a cocktail napkin with the words "Dark Horse" embossed on it.

Hermione's eyes meet mine. "It was one of them," she whispers. "Do you think it's - for heaven's sake, Ron, I can't breathe!"

"Sorry," I say, loosening my grip on her. I turn the scrap over. "What's all this?" There are all sorts of numbers and weird symbols scribbled on the back.

"It looks like Arithmancy," Hermione says, taking the napkin from me. "Only whoever wrote it wasn't very good at it. This wouldn't work _at all_!" She frowns disapprovingly down at it.

You couldn't prove it by me, but I'll take her word for it. I turn back to the guard, who's already returned to his _Prophet_. "Who else is here now besides us?" I ask.

"Well, there's some of your lot still hanging about," the guard says, nodding at me. "And some of them Unspeakables - they're a strange bunch, if you like! Oh, and that artist bloke what's painting on the Café walls - he says night is the only time he can work without a lot of people coming up and bothering him with questions."

I reckon we can rule out anybody from the Aurors, but I don't know about the Department of Mysteries. No one from Malfoy's list works there, so we haven't bothered with it much. Still, there're those missing names…

"Let's go and say hello to Dean," I say to Hermione. "He might have noticed something."

"He don't want to be bothered," the guard protests, but we ignore him.

"He won't mind us," Hermione assures him over her shoulder.

"The hell with _him_," I say, once the lift doors close behind us. "Rodolphus Lestrange could've walked right past him and he probably wouldn't have noticed."

Hermione frowns, thinking. "There aren't any other ways in except through the lobby," she says slowly. "They built the Ministry like that on purpose. So whoever was chasing me was probably already in here when it closed for the day."

I put my arm around her again. I don't want to get into it with her right now, so I'm not saying anything - but Hermione's not going anywhere without me until we catch whoever was after her tonight.

**Harry**

"I was going to show you the harbor today," Ginny says over breakfast the next morning. "But then I thought maybe you'd rather stop in and say hello to Gwenog first. You didn't get a chance to talk to her at all last night."

I look at her suspiciously. Ginny throws me an innocent smile, which doesn't fool me for a second. "If you're thinking of asking her about Xanthia Davis - " I begin.

"I wouldn't do anything that stupid!" Ginny protests. "Of course, if Gwenog happened to mention anything…"

"The last thing I want is for Xanthia Davis to know I'm in Holyhead," I say. I'd like it even better if we could keep Xanthia from finding out that Ginny's my girlfriend, but I'll bet she knows already. We didn't keep it quiet this time - I didn't think there was any need to worry anymore…

"Okay," Ginny says matter-of-factly. "Then we'll have to come up with another way to spy on her. What if we - "

There's a knock at the door. Ginny and I look at each other, startled. "Careful," I whisper, pulling out my wand. "Ask who it is before you open it."

"I can see who it is," Ginny points out. "There's a peephole in the door." She puts her eye to it. "It's Gwenog!" she whispers, excited. "Can I open the door now?"

"Is she alone?" I ask.

Ginny takes that for a yes. "Hello, Gwen," she says, throwing the door open. "Goodness, you're soaked - I hadn't realized it was raining. You remember Harry, don't you?"

"It's always raining here," Gwenog says, throwing her dripping cloak on a chair. "Hello, Harry."

"Hi," I say, wishing I was wearing something besides Ginny's flatmate's dressing gown. But Gwenog doesn't seem to notice. She shakes her head at Ginny's offer of tea.

"Where are Gloria and Jacintha?" she asks, looking around.

"Gone home for their day off," Ginny says. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"You could say that," Gwenog says grimly. "The bloody Ministry's wrong, for a start."

Ginny's eyes meet mine. "Xanthia," she mouths, and I nod.

"What's the Ministry done?" I ask carefully. "Have they changed the match schedule or something?"

"I wish," Gwenog says furiously. "No, it's much worse. The bloody Department of bloody Magical Games and Sports has decided they ought to be more _involved_ with the teams. They're sending Xanthia bloody Davis to replace me as Captain for a week!"

"Xanthia Davis?" Ginny asks. She's got that innocent look on her face again. "But she works in the office, doesn't she? What does she know about playing Quidditch?"

"Less than that owl of yours!" Gwenog says, jabbing a finger in Amber's direction. Amber blinks at her and turns her head away.

"That doesn't make much sense to me," I say. "If they want to learn more about the teams, why not just have her observe for a week?"

"Well, exactly!" Gwenog says. "And that's just what I told that Davis woman when she showed up yesterday, but she says she can't possibly get 'a real feel for it' if she just watches. And here we are with that match against the Tornadoes coming up - she's bound to ruin it for us!"

"Lodge a protest with the Ministry," Ginny suggests at once. "You're quite right - it puts us at an unfair disadvantage."

"I tried that already," Gwenog admits. "Xanthia said they were going to do it with every team in the League, and that I shouldn't feel as though the Harpies had been singled out."

That must have been the part of the conversation we overheard last night. "There's nothing I can do about it, but it's the worst bloody idea I've ever heard," Gwenog's saying. "Say what you will about Bagman, but no one from the Ministry ever interfered with the way we managed our teams when he was running things!"

That's probably because Bagman was more interested in betting on the matches than in actually running his Department, but I'm not stupid enough to point it out.

Gwenog picks up her cloak again. "I'd better go," she says, slinging it over her arm. "I still have to tell the other girls. Ginny, you'll let Gloria and Jacintha know, won't you?"

"But you'll still come to our practices, won't you?" Ginny asks. "Even if you can't play, surely you'll be allowed to watch."

"Nope," Gwenog says grimly. "I'm to take myself off and stay completely out of the way. Well, I'll be back the day before our match - hopefully it'll be enough time to undo all the mistakes she's managed to teach you." She nods at me. "Goodbye, Harry - it was nice to see you again."

"They're up to something!" Ginny says gleefully, as soon as the door's closed behind Gwenog. "Oh, I can't wait for practice tomorrow so I can find out what it is!"

I cross the room in two steps and take her by the shoulders. "I want you to promise me you'll be very, very careful," I say, in as stern a voice as I can manage.

"Harry, how can I possibly take you seriously when you're wearing Gloria's dressing gown?" Ginny asks, grinning at me. "And pink doesn't suit you at all, by the way!"

"Ginny," I say.

"All right, I promise," she says, suddenly turning serious. "I can do this, Harry - I'm _good_ at it, honestly! Xanthia won't suspect a thing - and I'll send you a Patronus every single night."

If I had a choice, I'd spend the week in Holyhead myself - but there's Malfoy. "All right," I say, giving in against my better judgment. "Send it at the same time every night. If I don't hear from you, I'll know something's wrong. And we'd better figure out some code words to use, too."

Ginny looks delighted. "Will you teach me Auror Code?" she asks eagerly.

"I'm not supposed to tell anyone," I protest.

"I'm not 'anyone'," Ginny says severely. "I'm your girlfriend. And anyway, Hermione knows it already, so you might just as well tell me."

If Ron and I make it through training without being expelled, it'll be a miracle. "Fine," I say wearily. "I'll teach you Auror Code. Why not?"

"Good," Ginny says, trying not to look too smug about it. "But I really think we'd better get dressed first. Gloria won't be pleased if she comes home early and finds you in her dressing gown."

**Hermione**

Ron insists on walking me to my office the next morning. I pretend to think he's being overprotective, but secretly I rather like it. "Aren't you supposed to be following Zabini?" I ask.

"He probably doesn't get up till noon, anyway," Ron says carelessly. "Now, Hermione, if I'm not around to take you to lunch, mind you don't go anywhere but the Ministry Café, all right? And take someone with you - Miranda or somebody. And - "

"If you want to speak to Ernie before that other clerk gets there, you'd better do it now," I interrupt.

"… and don't leave the office alone tonight," Ron continues, undeterred. "I'll come and get you at five."

"All right," I say, exasperated. "Then don't be late."

Ron starts to say something else - probably to tell me not to go to the Ladies' without sending him a Patronus or something equally ridiculous, but fortunately Miranda comes in with the mail and he has to stop talking.

"You'd better go," I tell him.

"Close your eyes for a minute, Miranda," Ron says, and kisses me without waiting to see if she's closed them or not. "See you later, Hermione - and remember what I said!"

"What was that all about?" Miranda asks, looking amused. She says the two of us make her laugh, although I'm not quite sure why.

I wonder briefly if I ought to tell her what happened last night - but no. We haven't got any proof, and anyway, Miranda's safe enough. "Nothing," I say. I look away, pretending to be embarrassed.

Miranda smirks at me. "Like that, is it?" she says. "All right, I won't ask! Now, I suppose there are all sorts of boring memos for us in today's mail, but first I want you to come and look at the sundress I bought yesterday. I'm thinking of bringing it back, but I want a second opinion."

"It's lovely," I say, holding it up to myself.

Miranda looks indecisive. "You don't think it's a bit too young for me?" she asks anxiously.

"Of course not," I say, wondering exactly how old she is. Late twenties, maybe. "I think you should keep it."

"I will, then," Miranda says, folding it up. "And today I'm going to get a pair of beach sandals I saw in Diagon Alley. Want to come with me?"

"I can't," I say, remembering my promise not to leave the Ministry. "I - er - promised to have lunch with someone."

"Ron, I suppose," Miranda says teasingly. "Don't you ever get sick of each other?"

Fortunately someone from Werewolf Support Services comes in to ask her a question and I'm able to escape back to my own office. I'm surprised when Ron actually does show up a few hours later to take me to lunch.

"What happened to Zabini?" I ask.

"He's at Madam Jolie's getting a seaweed wrap and an exfoliation treatment, whatever that is," Ron says, looking disgusted. "It sounded like he'd be awhile, so I took a chance and came to get you." He pulls a handful of illustrated brochures out of his pocket and drops them on my desk.

"What are these?" I ask, picking them up.

"Some witch at Madam Jolie's made me take them," Ron explains. "I had to have some excuse for hanging about the waiting room, so I pretended I was looking for a present for my fiancée."

"You didn't book anything for me, did you?" I ask warily. I know some women adore that sort of thing, but I've always thought it's rather a waste of time.

"Not _yet_," Ron says, not very reassuringly. "I won't unless I have to - and mind you don't let them cut your hair. Are you ready for lunch? I'm starving."

I've rather lost my appetite with the threat of Madam Jolie's hanging over my head, but I follow him out of the office. Miranda smiles knowingly at me from behind her desk.

"How old would you say she is?" I ask Ron.

"Who?" Ron says. "Oh, Miranda? I dunno - Bill's age, maybe. Hey, I talked to Ernie, and he's going to look through the stuff in Magical Records to see if there's anything that'll help."

"Good," I say. "I can help, if he likes."

"You were right about him being law-abiding, though," Ron says. "He said Dennis ought to be caught for his own good before he turned to a life of crime."

"Did he really say 'life of crime'?" I ask, giggling. "Poor Dennis. I'll stop in to see Ernie after lunch - maybe I can take some of the Records back to my office and go through them."

"You're not stopping there without me," Ron says firmly.

**Ron**

Malfoy's standing outside the door to the Ministry Café. There are people passing by, but he keeps scanning the crowd like he's looking for someone. I motion Hermione to go on ahead and stop next to him, pretending to tie my shoe.

"Problem, Malfoy?" I ask.

Malfoy looks past me. "Where the hell is Potter?" he whispers.

"Day off," I say. "Why?"

Malfoy looks taken aback. "Day off?" he repeats, like he's never heard the term before. "All week long I can't turn around without bumping into him, and he takes off _today_?"

I lower my voice. "What's wrong?"

Malfoy glares at me and closes his lips firmly. I do a non-verbal _Muffliato_. "Talk," I say.

"He's supposed to be finding something for me," Malfoy says at last. "I have to give it back to them - I've only got till tonight. They'll kill me if I don't have it! Potter was going to find it - he promised - "

Harry never said any such thing, but I let it slide since Malfoy's obviously in a panic. "Tonight?" I repeat. I'd better let Harry know…

"I only have a few hours," Malfoy says desperately.

Even though I hate Malfoy, I can't help feeling a bit sorry for him. He's right - they could easily kill him. And while I don't trust him, he's the only thing we've got right now. "All right," I say. "I'll take care of it. Just go back to work like everything's normal. I'll meet you in the Atrium at five."

Malfoy stares at me. "You have it?"

"Er, not exactly," I say. "Don't ask, okay? Just trust me on this."

Malfoy looks like he trusts me about as much as I trust him, but it's not like either one of us has a choice. "Okay," he says finally. "But tell Potter, all right?"

Like I'm not going to send a Patronus the second I get behind closed doors. "I will," I say. "Just go back to work, yeah?"

Hermione's been waiting for me. I do another _Muffliato_ (best charm I ever learned, that one) and fill her in. "You can't give it to him," she argues at once.

"I'm not going to give it to him," I say patiently. "I'm going to find another 1925 Galleon and give him that instead. He'll never know the difference."

Hermione looks doubtful. "He won't, but Rodolphus certainly will," she points out. "It must _do_ something, Ron - otherwise they wouldn't all be after it!"

"Do you have a better idea?" I ask. "It might fool them for a little while - and Malfoy can play dumb and say it was the one from the envelope. Maybe Rodolphus'll think someone else stole it."

"I suppose it might work," Hermione admits after a minute. "Actually, it's not a bad plan. Only where are you going to find another 1925 Galleon?"

"Gringott's, I guess," I say. "Let's eat fast and then you can help me with a disguise."

I rush Hermione through her food (it takes her forever to eat) and into a nearby storage closet. "Who do you want to be?" she asks, pulling out her wand.

"An old man," I say promptly. That ought to fool the goblins - plus, it'll fit in nicely with the story I'm going to use on them.

"That's easy enough," Hermione says, going to work. It doesn't take her long. "There," she says, five minutes later. "What do you think?" She hands me her compact so I can see myself.

"Not bad," I say, examining my face in the tiny glass. I look sort of like my grandfather, actually, but not enough for anyone to mistake me for him. "Right. Let's get you back to the office and then I'm off."

"Remember not to walk too fast," Hermione warns. "You ought to shuffle a bit - and try to make your voice sound old."

I clutch her arm and drag my feet. "Slow down, dearie," I say in my best old-man voice.

Hermione giggles. "You'd better not come back to the office with me," she says. "Miranda might be there."

"I'll just watch from the end of the hall, then," I say stubbornly. "And stay here till I come for you." I remember belatedly that I'm supposed to meet Malfoy at five. "I'll be here at a quarter to five," I tell her. "You'll just have to leave a bit early today."

Hermione looks disapproving. "Just this once," she says. "All right, then. Good luck!" She starts off.

"Hey," I say, catching her arm. "Don't I get a kiss?"

Hermione looks around, but the corridor's empty. "This feels definitely weird," she says, leaning in.

"This is what I'm going to look like in about sixty years," I say.

"You will not," Hermione says firmly. "You're not going to have a horrible straggly mustache, anyway."

I think about pointing out that the mustache wasn't my idea, but I've got to get over to Gringott's. Hermione gives me my kiss and goes. I watch till the door of the House-Elf Relocation Office closes behind her, then turn and shuffle back to the lift.

I shuffle right past Hannah and Neville in the Cauldron, and they don't even look up. It takes me ages to make my way up the street to Gringott's - when I'm old I'm going to Apparate everywhere - but at last I'm there. A goblin steps forward and watches me as I make my way slowly up the stairs, clinging to the railing.

"Good afternoon, sir," he says, looking me over.

"Good afternoon, young man," I say in a quavery voice. The goblin looks amused.

"May I help you, sir?" he asks.

"You may, indeed," I say. "I have a young grandson who's recently become interested in coin-collecting, and I'd like to give him a special piece for his collection."

The goblin nods. "A 1956 Knut, perhaps?" he asks eagerly. "They're very rare, you know - the year was upside-down in the first minting. We caught the mistake quickly, so there are only a few hundred of them in circulation. I could find you a very nice one - they're valued at fifty Galleons."

_Fifty Galleons?_ Those collectors must all be mental - the only coin I'd give fifty Galleons for is a fifty Galleon piece.

"No, no," I say hastily. "I'm looking for something with a bit more sentimental value. You see, I was born in 1925, so I thought I'd like to give him a Galleon from that year." And he'd better not tell me it's valued at fifty times that, either.

"Oh," the goblin says, clearly losing interest. "I expect we could find one of those. We generally take them out of circulation after a certain number of years, but - wait here, please."

He disappears through a door into a back room, and I take advantage of my old man status to grab the only available chair. After about fifteen minutes he comes back.

"Here you are, sir," he says, handing me a coin. "A 1925 Galleon. Of course, there's nothing particularly _special_ about it, if you don't mind my saying so. Now a 1910 Galleon - that's different!"

Yeah - it probably costs about two hundred. "This will do," I say, pulling out my money bag.

"Very well," the goblin says, disappointed. "One Galleon, please."

I hand him the coin - bloody Malfoy; he just cost me a Galleon - and escape as fast as I can with my old man walk. I'd like to get rid of the disguise, but I think I'd better keep it on when I hand over the Galleon to Malfoy. Anyway, it'll come in handy while I'm following Zabini.

Bloody hell - Zabini. His seaweed thing's probably done. I make my way down the street just in time to see him disappearing into Madam Malkin's.

I proceed to spend the most boring afternoon of my life following Zabini from shop to shop. He's worse than any girl I ever knew when it comes to shopping. It's a relief when he finally strolls through the Leaky Cauldron at four o'clock and Disapparates outside. I'll have to find out where he lives, but not today.

Hermione comes out of her office at exactly quarter to five, looking guilty. "Well?" she whispers, as soon as we get on the lift.

"Got it," I say, showing her.

"It looks just like the other one," Hermione says, leaning over my hand. "But - "

The lift stops for some other people to get on. Hermione looks at all of them disapprovingly because they're skiving off work early.

"Wait over there," I whisper, when we get to the Atrium. "But stay where I can see you."

About five minutes later, I see Malfoy getting off the lift with a lot of other people. He stops in the middle of the Atrium, looking around nervously.

"Young man," I call, shuffling toward him. "I wonder if you could help me?"

Malfoy looks annoyed. "Ask someone else, can't you?" he says. "I'm busy."

"Busy doing what?" I ask in my normal voice. "Waiting for me?"

Malfoy's jaw drops. "Weasley?" he whispers.

"Shut up," I warn. "I'm supposed to meet my daughter and her husband at a restaurant next door to the Ministry," I say loudly in my old man voice. "Only it's not there. French place, it is. Nothing wrong with good English food, in my opinion, but you know how these young people can be!"

"It's not next door," Malfoy says, catching on quickly. "It's around the corner. You didn't go far enough, that's all."

"Thank you very much, young man," I say, sticking my hand out. Malfoy takes it, looking confused, and I press the Galleon into his palm. "You've been most helpful."

"No problem," Malfoy says, looking a bit confused. He leans closer. "Is this it?" he whispers.

"No," I whisper back. "It's a fake - but it ought to fool them for a bit."

"But - " Malfoy protests. Two young witches walking past look at us curiously.

"What's that, young man?" I say loudly. "Round the corner, is it? Speak up, lad - don't mumble!"

One of the witches says something to her friend and they both giggle. Malfoy's face reddens. "You won't have any trouble finding it," he says. "It's a very nice restaurant." He waits till the girls are out of earshot and whispers, "Another good place to eat is the Dark Horse in Knockturn Alley - especially around eight o'clock tonight. You might pass that on to your friend." He turns abruptly and Disapparates. 

**Draco**

I don't dare look at what Weasley gave me till I'm safe in my bedroom with the door locked. I pull it out of my pocket and stand there, stunned. A _Galleon_? And quite an ordinary one, by the looks of it. This can't possibly be what Rodolphus is after - and it's not going to fool him for a second. Bloody Weasley - he's an idiot; I always said so.

Wait, though - it is rather old, isn't it? I turn the coin in my hand, examining the date. 1925. It means absolutely nothing to me, but…

With the coin safely hidden, I make my way down to Father's study. He's pouring himself the first of what will certainly be several firewhiskys.

He greets me with a nod. "Drink?" he offers, holding up the bottle. "You must need one, after your hard day's work." He sneers a little when he says it. Father still doesn't understand why I won't give up my job at the Ministry. Since it's impossible to explain that I'm there under Rodolphus's orders, I simply avoid the subject.

"No, thanks," I say. "I'm going out later." I'm actually longing for a firewhisky to settle my nerves, but I'd better have a clear head tonight.

Father shrugs. "Suit yourself," he says. "Well, then, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was wondering," I say, a bit awkwardly, "if you'd ever had a coin collection."

Father sets down his glass and gives me an odd look. "A coin collection?" he repeats. "No, Draco, I've never had a coin collection - or a butterfly collection, either. Why?"

"No reason," I say, doing my best to sound casual. "I came across rather an old Galleon today, and I thought you might be able to tell me if it was worth anything."

"I shouldn't think so," Father says, losing interest. "Possibly if it's very old."

"1925," I say.

Father laughs shortly. "That may seem old to you, but it's less than a hundred years. I doubt very much if it's worth anything at all, but I suppose you could ask them at Gringott's."

I let the subject drop. If there's something special about a 1925 Galleon, Father doesn't know anything about it.

Mother appears in the doorway. "You two do look cozy together," she says. "I was just thinking. Wouldn't it be nice to have some company this evening?"

_No._ "I'm going out," I say quickly; then add, "Sorry. Maybe some other time."

Mother looks disappointed. Father eyes her warily. "Who did you have in mind, Narcissa?" he asks.

"Just the Bulstrodes," Mother says, avoiding my eyes. "Millicent says she's looked for Draco at the Ministry, but she can never seem to find him, so I thought - "

"Because I run the other way every time I see her!" I say, exasperated. "Please, mother, if you love me at all, don't try to fix me up with Millicent Bulstrode!"

Father looks amused. "She's twice Draco's size," he points out.

"Well, it's not as though there were a lot of choice," Mother says crossly. "Half the families we used to know won't have anything to do with us ever since - " She breaks off in mid-sentence, looking horrified. "Oh, Lucius, I didn't mean - "

"They'll come round," Father says, unperturbed. "Give it another year or so and I'll be right back where I was. Gold has a very strange way of making people forget."

I've had enough. "Is dinner ready?" I ask Mother. "I'm going out at half-past seven."

"Who are you going out with, dear?" Mother asks eagerly.

_Your brother-in-law - the one everyone thinks is dead._ "Blaise Zabini," I lie. Actually, it's not really a lie - Zabini may turn up at some point.

"There, you see?" Father says to Mother. "Belinda Zabini - or whatever her name is now - doesn't hold anything against us."

"Belinda's busy poisoning her eighth husband," Mother says pettishly. "I doubt very much if she's given much thought to her son."

I'm halfway out of the room, but that one catches my interest. I've wondered about Zabini's mother for ages. "Is that how she does it?" I ask. "Poison?"

"Well, no one knows for sure," Mother says, lowering her voice. "But it's rather _convenient_ the way they've all died off, isn't it?"

I'm still thinking about Zabini's mother when I enter the Dark Horse a few hours later. I never quite had the nerve to ask him about her, but maybe I will tonight. Only he doesn't seem to be here.

"Where's Zabini?" I ask Nott.

Nott grins at me. "Got involved with the wrong woman," he says in a low voice. "He found it - er - expedient to leave town for a bit."

Like mother, like son. Warrington's coming in now, with Montague and Flint tagging along behind. I take another look around. Potter might be here, somewhere - either in disguise or under that damned Cloak. Always assuming that Weasley got the message, of course - it doesn't do to depend too much on Weasley's brains.

**Harry**

Only the fact that I'm afraid to leave Ginny to her own devices stops me from rushing back the second I get Ron's Patronus. I'm relieved to find him and Hermione waiting for me in the sitting room.

"What the hell was that message you sent?" I greet him in a low voice. "It made absolutely no sense!"

"Malfoy said he'd got to give Rodolphus the coin tonight," Ron explains. "I wasn't about to give him the real one, of course, so I got another 1925 Galleon at Gringotts and gave him that. He doesn't know the difference."

"No, but Rodolphus will!" I say.

"How?" Ron says reasonably. "He won't know till he tries to make it do whatever it does, and he won't do that at the Dark Horse."

I'm lost. "The Dark Horse?" I ask.

"Malfoy's going to be there at eight tonight," Ron says. "He wants us to be there - well, you, anyway. Only I'm going with you - I don't quite trust him."

I turn to Hermione. "Start over and tell it properly," I say.

Hermione complies, giving me almost too many details. "And that's the second time in two days that Dark Horse place has come up," she finishes. "Last night when whoever was chasing me dropped that cocktail napkin, and - "

"Hang on," I interrupt. "Someone chased you?"

Hermione takes a deep breath and launches into the story. "So I'm not leaving her on her own, obviously," Ron says at the end. "Even during the day."

I glance at Hermione, expecting her to look annoyed, but instead she looks almost pleased. I'll never understand their relationship.

"What about tonight?" Hermione says, leaning forward. "I know you've got the Cloak, Harry, but it wouldn't hurt if you both went in disguise as well."

"Hermione does a brilliant old man," Ron puts in, beaming at her fondly. "Only I reckon I'd better not be him twice in a row."

I agree to the disguises. "Something weird's happening in Holyhead, too," I say. "Xanthia Davis is taking over as Captain of the Harpies for the week."

"She's up to something," Hermione says at once.

"Ginny's keeping an eye on her," I say. "I don't like it much, but she's going to send me a Patronus every day. I can be there in seconds if I have to." I hesitate and then add, "I thought of asking her to come home with me, but - "

"She'd never do it," Ron says at once. "She's wanted to play for the Harpies ever since she was a little kid. If she walks out now, it's over."

"I think you ought to tell Robards about Xanthia," Hermione says anxiously.

"I did tell him," I say. "He said he'd look into it."

Ron's eyes meet mine for a second. He knows as well as I do that Robards probably thinks I'm just overreacting.

"Good," Hermione says, not noticing.

I look at my watch, but it's too early for Ginny's message. I probably shouldn't have taught her Auror Code, but I think it'll be all right. It's not like I told her everything - just a few things to be used strictly for emergency purposes.

"I think we ought to get started on your disguises," Hermione's saying, flourishing her wand briskly. "Harry, can you manage on your own, or do you want me to do yours, too?"

"You do Ron's and I'll watch," I say. Robards was supposed to teach me about disguises, but so far he hasn't been bothered. I'll just have to learn from Hermione.

In the end, I let her do the whole thing. "You both look scary enough to fit in at the Dark Horse," she says, looking us over critically. "But it's too bad you have to wear your glasses, Harry. They sort of give you away."

"I'm hardly the only wizard in England who needs glasses," I point out. "Some of the Dark side must be near-sighted. Anyway, I can't see without them."

"Turn them into dark glasses," Ron suggests.

"It's night," I say, exasperated. "Who wears dark glasses at night?"

"Film stars," Hermione offers, just as Ron's saying "the lead singer from the Weird Sisters."

"I'll be under the Cloak," I say firmly, pulling it out of my pocket. "Ready?"

Ron kisses Hermione and joins me under the Cloak. "Be careful," I hear her whisper as we're leaving.

Ron and I move easily under the Cloak together, just like we always did. I can't help but be reminded of our food-stealing expeditions last year, when we were on the run.

Ron grins at me, and I can tell he's thinking the same thing. "Nice we haven't lost the knack, isn't it?" he whispers.

"Shh," I warn. "That's it up ahead."

We pause outside of the Dark Horse, waiting for someone to open the door so we can slip in.

**Ron**

"What do you mean, nothing happened?" Hermione says indignantly. "Malfoy told you it was tonight."

"Well, he was wrong," I say, starting to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Hermione wards me off with her Ancient Runes book. "Take your disguise off first," she says firmly. "I'm not having any strange men in my bed."

I can't help laughing at her, but I get rid of the disguise - and my clothes along with it. My clothes smell a bit like firewhisky - I don't think they mop the floors very often at the Dark Horse - and I chuck them into a corner, avoiding Hermione's eyes. "So what did happen?" Hermione's asking.

I wait till I see the Ancient Runes book go on the floor before I lie down. "What happened is Harry and I spent three bloody hours crouched under a table while Malfoy and his friends had a great time drinking and telling stories," I say. "We didn't learn anything important, Rodolphus never showed up, and my back's never going to be the same." I look hopefully at her. "Fancy giving me a massage?"

Hermione comes over to my side of the bed. "What sort of stories?" she asks, leaning over me.

What? Oh, Malfoy. "Just crap about the girls they'd been out with and the clubs they went to," I say. "Mostly lies, if you ask me. I - what's that stuff?"

Hermione's got a bottle in her hand. "Just my lemon hand lotion," she says. "I got it for Christmas."

"You can't put that on me!" I protest. "I'll smell like a girl!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione says firmly. "No one's going to smell you but me. Anyway, I think it's a nice, clean smell - sort of like furniture polish or washing-up liquid."

Great - I always wanted to smell like cleaning products. She's right, though - it's not like I'm planning to go anywhere. "All right, then," I say, closing my eyes.

It seems like it's only a few minutes later when I wake up, but the room's dark and Hermione's sound asleep next to me. It takes me a minute to realize what woke me, but then I realize someone's knocking at the door. I get cautiously out of bed, grabbing my wand. "Who is it?" I whisper.

"Me, of course," Harry says from the other side of the door. "I got a message from Lurleen. Malfoy's just left his house. Do you want in on this?"

"Definitely," I say, pulling the door open. Harry's already dressed, with the Invisibility Cloak draped over his arm. "Just let me get some clothes on."

Hermione stirs and mumbles something. "Malfoy's up to something," I say, bending over her. "Harry and I are going after him."

Hermione sits up in bed. "Be careful," she says. "Maybe I ought to go with you."

Like hell. "Go back to sleep," I say, even though I know she won't. "This is Auror stuff."

I throw my clothes on and hurry out before she can argue. "Come on," Harry whispers impatiently. He sniffs at me suspiciously when we're under the Cloak. "Why do you smell like my Aunt Petunia?"

It takes me a second to remember. "It was Hermione's idea," I start, but Harry's already shaking his head.

"It doesn't matter," he says. "Lurleen said Malfoy's just standing on the front steps, but she can't follow him if he goes anywhere because she's not supposed to leave the Manor. She's supposed to be watching Lucius, not Draco."

"Lucius is _over_," I say.

Harry shrugs. "Tell Robards that," he says. "He still thinks Lucius is the big threat and that Malfoy and Warrington and the others are just kids playing at being Death Eaters."

After tonight, I can sort of see Robards' point, but it isn't Lucius who keeps having secret meetings with Rodolphus Lestrange. "Let's go, then," I say, and we do.

Lurleen's right - Malfoy's just standing on his front steps. We can see him through the gate - which is locked, naturally. _"Alohomora,"_ Harry says to it hopefully, but the lock doesn't budge.

"We can climb over the wall," I say. "It's got some footholds on the side here."

"I should've brought my broom," Harry says. "It's not going to be easy to climb, with both of us under the Cloak. Better do Disillusionment Charms, just in case."

The Disillusionment Charms turn out to be a good idea, since the Cloak and I part company pretty early on. It occurs to me halfway over that Lucius Malfoy's just the sort to have a jinx on his gates - but apparently he hasn't thought of it, because we make it over with no problem. Harry holds up one end of the Cloak and I slide under again. Silently we make our way toward Malfoy.

For a second I almost think he knows we're there, because he's starting toward us - but he stops when he gets to a big tree by the edge of the drive. Harry stops short, motioning me to keep quiet.

"Did you bring it?" I hear a strange voice whisper.

"Yeah, I have it," Malfoy whispers back. He puts one hand in his pocket and then stops. "What'll you give me for it?"

_Is he mental?_ Harry and I exchange stunned looks.

"Give you?" the other voice says, sounding outraged. "_Give_ you? I'll let you live a day longer; how's that for a bargain?"

"Rodolphus?" I mouth, and Harry nods grimly. He motions at the tree, and I know he wants to move closer.

Well, I wouldn't mind having a look at old Rodolphus myself. Harry and I edge forward, trying not to make any noise. I remember Hermione's trick with footsteps in the snow and cast the charm behind us to hide our tracks.

"You have to swear to protect me," Malfoy's saying.

Oh. Well, that sort of makes sense. Points to Malfoy for thinking of it.

Rodolphus doesn't agree. "I can't protect you," he says. "Only she can do that - and you haven't done anything to prove yourself worthy of protection."

Who's he talking about? I look at Harry, but he shrugs.

"I have, too," Malfoy says sulkily. "I took that stupid job at the Ministry when you told me to, and I went back when you told me to."

"The whole point of putting you in the Ministry was so that you could make contact with the other people in our network," Rodolphus says. "Something you have utterly failed to do, by the way."

"I have to be careful, don't I?" Malfoy argues. "The bloody Aurors are always following me around."

I'm trying to get a look at Rodolphus, but he's standing in the shadow of the tree. All I can see is a dark figure in a cloak. "Aurors," he says disgustedly. "They're easy enough to fool. Create a disturbance elsewhere and then go about your business."

"Right," Malfoy says eagerly. "I'll - er - do that. Anyone in particular you want me to make contact with first?"

It couldn't be more obvious that he doesn't have a clue who his "contacts" are, but Rodolphus has other things on his mind. "I believe you have something of mine," he says, holding out his hand.

"Okay, then," Malfoy says reluctantly. He pulls his hand out of his pocket and drops something into Rodolphus's outstretched palm.

Rodolphus's hand closes over it. "Now," he says, triumphantly. "I have another assignment for you, Draco. You - " He stops, looking around him suspiciously. "Are you wearing some sort of cologne?" he demands.

"Huh?" Malfoy says.

"I can smell citrus," Rodolphus says, sniffing the air. "Are you sure it's not coming from you?"

Harry gives me an accusing look from under the Cloak, and I shrug helplessly. I point to the spot where we were standing before - hopefully out of Rodolphus's smelling range - and we start edging our way back toward it."

"Talitha?" Rodolphus is whispering urgently. "Talitha, is that you?"

Talitha? I look questioningly at Harry, but he shakes his head, looking mystified.

"Huh?" Malfoy says again. "Who's Talitha?"

"No one," Rodolphus says abruptly. "Forget that you heard me say that. You'd better go inside - at once. I'll be in touch. Now that I have this back, it's only a matter of time before we can put our final plans in motion." He glances down at the object in his hand as he speaks, and lets out a gasp of rage. "What is this?" he demands furiously. "A Galleon? You think to deceive me with a worthless coin?"

"It's your coin," Malfoy protests, looking terrified. "Your special 1925 one that was in the envelope."

"My special - " Rodolphus appears to be lost for words. He lifts his wand threateningly. "Where is it?"

"I don't know what you mean," Malfoy says, backing away a step or two. "That's what was in the envelope. You wanted it back, and I'm giving it to you."

Rodolphus is silent for a minute. When he speaks again, his voice is thoughtful. "So," he says slowly. "This is how they want to play it. You swear this coin was the item you found in the envelope, boy?"

"I swear," Malfoy croaks. He sounds like he's about to cry. "Can I go now?"

"Yes, go," Rodolphus says, waving him off irritably. He stays where he is until he sees Malfoy go into the Manor and shut the door. Harry and I stay put, too, hardly daring to breathe.

"I know you're there, Talitha," Rodolphus says, in a low voice that makes my skin crawl. "Is this substitution your doing, or have we enemies? Oh, I'll grant the 1925 Galleon was a masterful touch - a masterful touch…"

I'm hoping he'll say something else, since I haven't got the slightest idea what he's on about, but to my disappointment he takes a step forward, turns and Disapparates.

**Hermione**

"But if it wasn't the coin, then what was it?" I say, perplexed. "Doesn't that coin we found mean anything?"

"It means somebody in the Black family dropped a Galleon on the floor back in 1925 and never bothered to pick it up," Ron says.

"No, it was Rabastan Lestrange's coin all right," Harry says. "Or he had one just like it, anyway. I think that's what Rodolphus meant by calling it a 'masterful touch.' Only it's not what was in Malfoy's envelope."

Then we're right back where we started, with no idea what we're looking for. "Who do you suppose Talitha is?" I say, changing the subject.

"I never heard of any witch - Dark or otherwise - called Talitha before," Ron says. "Only maybe that's not her real name, since Rodolphus told Malfoy to forget he'd heard it."

"If it's not her real name, it wouldn't matter," Harry argues. "Maybe I ought to try and get into the Records Room again."

"She's not going to be listed under her first name," Ron says, yawning. "You might just as well go round looking for people who smell like lemons."

Harry and I both stare at him. "I know it's late," I say. "But that _really_ didn't make any sense."

"Well, he thought I was her when he smelled Hermione's lemon lotion, didn't he?" Ron argues. "So this Talitha must use the same stuff."

"Oh, that's what it is," Harry says. "I should have known Ron hadn't been cleaning furniture. Well, I reckon it's a start. Where'd you buy it, Hermione?"

"I didn't," I say. "Miranda gave it to me for Christmas because I was always using hers. But they have it in the Apothecary's - I've seen it there. It's called Madam Citrona's Lemon Remedy."

"So hundreds of people probably have the same thing," Ron says, slumping back on the sofa again.

"I see it on a lot of desks at the Ministry," I say. "And it might not even be what Talitha's using. There are all sorts of perfumes and lotions that smell like different kinds of citrus - or that have citrus in them." I think about it for a second. "Hers might not be similar at all - lots of men can't tell the difference between perfumes. So all we really know is that she wears it."

"Great," Harry says, standing up. "Now that we've got that sorted, I guess I'll go to bed."

I'm still thinking about it when we go down to breakfast the next morning. "Do you think you could?" I ask Ron. "Tell the difference, I mean?"

"Difference between what?" Ron says, looking confused. I don't think he's quite awake yet.

"Perfumes, of course," I say.

Ron thinks about it for a minute. "I know what yours smells like," he offers. "And that poison stuff that came in the _Prophet_."

Hmm. Well, I suppose it's possible that Rodolphus might recognize the mysterious Talitha's perfume - but didn't Harry say he thought it was Malfoy's cologne at first?

Harry comes in, looking as exhausted as I feel, and I abandon the subject. "What are you going to do today?" I ask both of them.

"I'm meeting Perdita this morning to talk about my so-called progress in finding Dennis," Ron says. "Then I guess I'll have a look for Zabini, if she doesn't want me for anything else. Funny he didn't turn up last night, wasn't it?"

"Maybe he had another date," Harry says, pushing his plate back.

That's it. "That's who she is," I say excitedly.

They're staring at me again. "Who?" Harry says.

"Talitha," I explain. "She's the girl Zabini met at Madam Puddifoot's, and the one who talked to Reg Cattermole. It's got to be her!"

"I thought you said that was Damaris," Ron says.

"Well, maybe Damaris is Talitha," I say. "She's certainly evil enough. Oh, I hope she comes to work today!"

Ron shakes his head, looking mystified. "So you can find out if she smells like lemons?" he asks.

"I'm going to get Reg Cattermole to come by and have a look at her," I explain. "Maybe he'll recognize her as the woman he met at the vegetable market."

"Well, maybe," Ron says dubiously. "Only I hope he doesn't say so in front of her. Reg isn't all that quick-witted."

**Harry**

The name Talitha is still on my mind as I wait for the lift in the Atrium. There are dozens of witches hurrying by - she might be any one of them. I have a crazy impulse to call out the name and see if anyone turns round. Or maybe I could work it into Lee Jordan's radio program. I have my last interview with him coming up…

Malfoy's waiting for me when I get off the lift. "I need to talk to you, Potter!" he hisses. "Your idiot friend nearly got me killed last night!"

"Careful," I say under my breath. "People are going to be wondering what you're doing on this floor."

"You come to my floor all the time," Malfoy points out, looking annoyed. "Why is this different?"

"Because I'm an Auror," I say, grinning at him. "If you want to talk, we shouldn't do it here. Meet me - " I hesitate, trying to think of a meeting place where no one will notice us. A Muggle place, maybe? There's that street where Hermione brought us the night of the wedding… or the train station. Is Platform 9-3/4 accessible when the Hogwarts Express isn't running? Well, we're about to find out. "Meet me at King's Cross Station between Platforms 9 and 10 in one hour," I say finally. "Oh, and wear Muggle clothes. Those robes are definitely going to get you noticed."

Malfoy looks like he's about to argue, but I hurry into the Auror Office before he can open his mouth. "Good morning, Harry," Persimmon says, smiling at me. "Gawain asked me to send you in as soon as you arrived."

"Thanks," I say. As I turn away, I notice a bottle of Madam Citrona's Lemon Remedy on her desk. Hermione's right - everyone's got some.

Robards ignores me as usual, but for once I don't wait for him to speak first. "Have you ever heard of anyone called Talitha?" I ask.

Robards puts down his parchment to look at me. "Talitha," he repeats slowly. "No, I don't believe that I have. However, I can see that you are bursting to enlighten me, Mr. Potter. Please, continue."

"I can't," I admit, feeling a bit deflated. "I don't know who she is, either. Only Rodolphus does, and he seems to be afraid of her."

That gets his attention. "Rodolphus Lestrange is afraid of this Talitha?" he demands. "How do you know this?"

I fill him in on last night's adventure, leaving out the bit about Ron and the Lemon Remedy. There's no point in making us look like bigger prats than we are.

"You say Malfoy handed over the object Lestrange was looking for, and yet it appeared not to be the correct item," Robards says, frowning. "Explain, please - that part isn't very clear."

"It sounded like he gave him a Galleon - Malfoy, I mean," I say, floundering. I can't tell him Ron told Malfoy to do it - especially since the coin we found isn't what Rodolphus is looking for after all. "Rodolphus was angry at first, but after Malfoy swore that he'd found it in the envelope Rodolphus gave him, he seemed like he thought maybe someone stole the first thing - whatever it was. Then he thought someone called Talitha was there, and he panicked and made Malfoy go into the house."

"A Galleon seems like an odd choice for someone hoping to substitute something for a magical item," Robards says, immediately honing in on the one thing I was hoping he wouldn't notice. "How do you suppose young Malfoy came up with that particular idea?"

I shrug, deliberately making my mind a blank. "Well, he's not all that bright, Malfoy," I say. "Or maybe he was telling the truth - maybe someone really did steal the other thing and leave a Galleon in its place." I'm not lying, exactly - whatever was in that envelope is definitely gone. It wasn't in Hermione's _Fantastic Beasts_ book, and it wasn't at Hogwarts - so someone must have it.

Robards looks at me for a long moment. I shift uncomfortably. "So - any idea who Talitha might be?" I ask.

"I shall launch an investigation immediately," Robards says, meaning he's not going to discuss it with me.

Fine - be that way. I turn to go.

"Mr. Potter?" Robards says. "The reason I asked you to come in here was to tell you that I have looked into the business of Xanthia Davis taking over the Holyhead Harpies."

"And?" I say eagerly. "She's up to something, isn't she?"

"The Department of Magical Games and Sports assures me that they have similar plans for every team in the British Quidditch League," Robards says. "There's nothing underhanded going on, Mr. Potter. Xanthia Davis is merely following instructions from her supervisor - something you would be wise to emulate."

"Right," I say tightly. "If you don't need me for anything else, I'll get back to following Malfoy."

Robards nods. "Inform me at once if Rodolphus Lestrange makes another appearance," he says.

I'm still annoyed as I make my way to King's Cross. He's wrong about Xanthia - I know he is. He wouldn't be that casual if _his_ girlfriend was on the Harpies. As soon as I deal with Malfoy, I'm taking another trip to Holyhead.

**Ron**

"I'll see you at lunch," I say, kissing Hermione. "Hi, Miranda."

Miranda's looking a bit harassed this morning. "Is something wrong?" Hermione says to her.

"_She's_ coming in later," Miranda says.

Even I know who 'she' means. I guess Miranda doesn't like Damaris any better than Hermione does. "Maybe we ought to go to the Cauldron for lunch," I say to Hermione. "You'll probably need a drink by then."

"Can I come?" Miranda says. "I'm sure I'll need one myself."

"Why is she bothering to come in?" Hermione asks. "We haven't got any elves right now."

"It's my fault," Miranda admits. "Sort of. It's because I'm going on holiday next week - she wants to 'go over a few things' with me first, which means give me so much work that I won't be able to get away."

"How can she give you work if she never does any?" I ask logically. "Just tell her it's already taken care of, and then chuck it in the bin when she goes. She'll never know."

Miranda's laughing. "I like him," she says to Hermione. "Has he got any brothers?"

"Several," Hermione says. "But Ron's the best of the lot." She looks thoughtful. "Only one of them's married so far," she says. "I could introduce - "

"I've got to go," I interrupt hastily. I don't want to get stuck in the middle of her matchmaking. "Good luck with Damaris!"

Miranda must be a lot older than we thought if she doesn't know any of my brothers. Looks pretty good for her age, though.

Perdita's waiting for me when I get to the Auror Office. "I hear you had quite an adventure last night," she says. "I want to hear all about it - but first I suppose you'd better bring me up to date on the Dennis Creevey situation."

I take a deep breath and prepare to lie.

**Hermione**

I have the interoffice memo all ready, but I don't want to send it too early. Reg Cattermole might show up and fix my desk drawer before Damaris even gets here - after all, it's probably only going to take him about three seconds.

I pull out my Ancient Runes book and force myself to work on translations till I hear voices in the outer office. That must be her. I give the memo a quick tap with my wand and it flutters away, just as the office door opens.

"Oh, you're still here," Damaris says, managing to sound both surprised and disappointed. "I hope you haven't been too bored with the job."

"Not at all," I say coolly.

Damaris looks at my Ancient Runes book. "What's this?" she asks.

"It's a treatise on the lifestyles of house-elves back in the days of the Four Founders," I say, taking a chance that she doesn't know how to read Runes. "You're welcome to look at it if you like - it's fascinating."

"No, thank you," Damaris says, backing away hastily. "I wouldn't dream of depriving you of the opportunity."

Apparently I was right, because she ignores me after that. I watch out of the corner of my eye as she opens an enormous cosmetics bag and proceeds to touch up her already perfectly made-up face. "What do you think of this lipstick?" she demands suddenly.

Is she talking to me? I look around covertly, but we're alone. "It's lovely," I say politely, even though it's a rather hideous shade of pink.

Damaris frowns at her reflection in a hand mirror. "I knew it," she says decisively. "It's positively insipid." She tosses the tube in my direction. "Here, you can have it if you like. It'd probably suit you."

"Er, thanks," I say uncertainly, planning to toss it in the rubbish at the first opportunity.

Damaris looks me over. "You don't wear much make-up, do you?" she asks.

I've had enough of her. "I don't think I really need much at _my_ age," I say, smiling sweetly at her.

Damaris raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

Honestly. I can watch for Reg Cattermole from the outer office. "Excuse me," I say stiffly. "I need to have a word with Miranda."

Miranda grins at me. "That was fast," she remarks.

"Here," I say, offering her the ugly pink lipstick. "I've brought you a going-away present for your holidays."

Wilton's office door opens and we both look up in astonishment. He hardly ever surfaces during the day. "Ah, good, you're here," he says, blinking at me. "I need your help. I've got to deliver an update on the status of the House-Elf Office at my next Department meeting. Do you think you could spare a few minutes?"

He's my boss - what else can I do? "Of course," I say, inwardly cursing his timing. Well, maybe it won't take very long.

It ends up taking at least a half hour - mostly because Wilton hasn't got a clue what we do all day. "Excellent," he says happily as I leave. "My meeting's not for another hour - that just leaves times for a quick nap."

"Do you suppose he's ill?" I say in an undertone to Miranda. "It's not normal for anyone to need that much sleep."

Miranda shrugs. "His wife just had another baby last fall," she says. "I don't think he gets much sleep at home."

Oh. But still…

"Someone from Magical Maintenance was here looking for you," Miranda continues. "Something about a broken desk? I showed him into your office - Madam wasn't best pleased, but she said she'd handle it. "

"Is he still here?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

Miranda shakes her head. "I think he might have had trouble fixing it," she says. "He wants you to come and see him in the Maintenance Office."

I was right - he recognized her! Oh, I hope he didn't let on! "I'll go right now," I say, trying to sound casual. I pause in the doorway. "Er, where exactly is the Magical Maintenance Office?"

"I'll show you," Miranda says. "It's a bit tricky to find."

Oh dear. "You can just tell me," I offer, but she's already getting up.

"I have to stop in at Administrative Services to hand in Wilton's expenses," Miranda says. "It's on my way."

Well, good. Maybe she'll just point it out and leave. I can't help wondering what sort of expenses Wilton could possibly have - a new pillow, maybe? - but I suppose it's none of my business.

"As long as it's no trouble," I say.

Miranda grins at me. "No trouble at all," she says. "I make it a point to be out of the office as much as possible when Damaris is here."

**Draco**

I had a hell of a time getting away from work to come and meet Potter. I had to fake a headache - and even then, Edgecombe didn't want me to leave. "Just long enough to go down to the Magical Cures Office for a headache potion," she finally conceded. "And mind you come right back!"

Ugly cow. Looking at her gives me a headache every day. I look uneasily about the station. Everyone here looks like a Muggle, but you never know, do you? I glance down nervously at the train tracks, remembering the time Rodolphus (or someone) nearly pushed me in front of a bus. It'd be easy enough to fake an accident in a train station - it must happen all the time…

There's Potter, leaning up against a pillar. "I haven't tried getting through," he greets me. "Do you know if it works all the time, or just when the train comes?"

What? Oh, Platform 9-3/4. "How the hell should I know?" I say nastily. "I thought the Aurors would have all of that information."

"You're the one working for Magical Transportation," Potter says, refusing to be offended. "Will we give it a go, or would you rather go in there?"

He nods at a pub across the way. It's rather dingy-looking, like all train station pubs, but I feel safer with people around me. Rodolphus can't shove me under a train if I'm sitting surrounded by Muggles - I don't think. "In there," I say shortly. I head quickly for the pub without waiting to see if he follows.

Potter catches up and sits down across from me. "Better let me order for us," he says in a low voice. "Unless you've been in one of these places before?"

I shake my head. "Get me a firewhisky," I say recklessly. I've got some Tooth-Flossing Stringmints in my pocket - Edgecombe'll never know.

"I haven't got that much Muggle money on me," Potter says. "It's tea or lemonade, I'm afraid."

I start to point out that he doesn't need real money, but Saint Potter's hardly going to cheat a Muggle barman, is he? "Fine," I say crossly. "Lemonade, then."

I watch the people around us while he's at the bar, but no one's paying any attention to us. Potter comes back with two glasses and sets one in front of me. I take a tentative sip and set the glass down hastily.

"It's not as good as the wizard kind," Potter says apologetically. "I think they use some sort of powder to make it."

I push the glass away. "Do that charm thing," I order.

"I've already done it," Potter says, looking amused. "You're perfectly safe."

That's what he thinks. "Your idiot friend gave me a Galleon and told me to give it to my uncle," I say. "He said it would fool Rodolphus - only it didn't."

Potter nods. "I know," he says. "I was there."

I stare at him. "Where?" I demand suspiciously. "In the Dark Horse?"

"Well, there, too," Potter says. "Only nothing much happened, did it? The real action took place back at your house."

My house? I wonder how he knew to wait there. More importantly, I wonder that he dared. I can't help feeling a sort of grudging admiration for him, even though I think he's a fool for sticking his neck out. "How much did you hear?" I ask.

"Everything," Potter says simply.

"Well, then you know a Galleon wasn't the thing Rodolphus was looking for," I say. "What made you think it was? Or was that just Weasley being stupid again?"

"We need to find out what was originally in that envelope," Potter says, ignoring my question. "See if you can get him to describe it."

Potter doesn't quite get it, does he? "I'm trying to _avoid_ Rodolphus," I point out. "Anyway, I can hardly pretend I'm going to go look for his whatever-it-is when he already thinks someone else stole it."

"You can say you want to keep an eye out for it, can't you?" Potter says, sounding impatient for the first time. "Think about it. Rodolphus is going to be in serious trouble when he lets it be known that he's gone and lost this - this thing."

Maybe - but trouble with who? "Who's this Talitha person?" Potter asks, while I'm still thinking about it.

I shake my head. "No idea," I say truthfully.

"Well, see what you can find out," Potter says. "You might drop the name in front of your parents - see if they react to it."

"Full of ideas, aren't you?" I say, a little sourly. "Anything else you want to know?"

Potter considers. "I need Warrington's address," he says. "And Zabini's, as well."

"Zabini's won't do you any good," I say. "He's left town."

Potter (for once) looks surprised. "Where'd he go?" he asks.

I shrug. "Nott said it was something to do with a woman," I explain. "I think her husband might have found out."

"Oh," Potter says, looking disgusted. "Well, in that case…"

I scribble Warrington's address on a paper napkin and hand it to him. "I've got to go," I say, looking at my watch. "That old hag Edgecombe's going to be looking for me." I peer out the pub doorway, scanning the faces of the people walking by.

"Right," Potter says, watching me. "Do you want me to escort you back to the Ministry?"

"Certainly not," I say, annoyed. "I'm perfectly capable of going by myself."

**Ron**

"I thought he might've gone to Hogsmeade," I explain. "Being a Muggle-born, he's not going to know many wizarding places to hide, is he? I reckoned he'd either think of Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley straight off."

Perdita nods. "No, I suppose those would be the only places he's familiar with," she agrees. "Well, and Hogwarts, of course, but he wouldn't be able to hide there."

_Not anymore,_ I think, avoiding her eyes. "Anyway, I showed his photo round the shops," I say quickly. "Lots of people remembered him, but no one's seen him since last year."

"We can probably write Hogsmeade off, then," Perdita says. "Mind, he might still be in that area, but I shouldn't think it likely if he's not been seen. It's winter, after all - he can't be living outside. Well, what luck did you have in Diagon Alley?"

"Er," I say. I can feel my ears turning red. "I haven't managed to get round to that yet. I thought I might go today."

Perdita gives me a long, measuring look that reminds me of Hermione. "It couldn't have taken you three days to visit the Hogsmeade shops," she says in a low voice.

"No," I admit, still not looking at her.

Perdita sighs. "Look, Ron, I understand how you feel," she says. "I know Dennis Creevey's probably a good kid and you don't want to see him get in trouble, but - "

Persimmon's waving at her. "You're wanted," she says, nodding at Robards' office.

"Off you go, then," Perdita says to me. "Diagon Alley, is it?"

"Yeah," I say, grateful for the interruption.

Reg Cattermole's standing in the corridor outside the Auror Office. He jumps nervously as I open the door.

"Hi Reg," I say, surprised. "Is something broken in here, or - " I remember Hermione's plan and lower my voice. "Or did you need to talk to me about something?"

Reg twists his hands nervously. "Well, that's just it," he says. "I dunno if I've got something to tell you or if I don't, exactly, but I thought it was a bit strange-like."

It takes me a second to sort this out. "Why don't you tell me anyway?" I say encouragingly.

"Right," Reg says. "Your missus - she works in that House-Elf Office, doesn't she?"

Hermione's not exactly my "missus" yet, but I like the way it sounds, so I let it pass. "Yes," I say.

"Thought it was her," Reg says. "Well, she sent me one of them memo things and asked me to come up and fix a broken desk. She wasn't there when I showed up, but I reckoned I could fix it without her, even though the other lady wasn't all that pleased to be interrupted."

The other lady must be Damaris. So Reg got a look at her, did he?

"So I fixed it," Reg continues. "It only took me a second, mind. No offense to your missus, Ron, but I reckon even my Maisie could've mended it. And then I got to wondering about why a lady as clever as you say your missus is would ask me to fix something she could have fixed herself."

I wait, but he seems to be finished. "So did you come up with an answer?" I ask.

"No," Reg says slowly. "Not exactly. But then I got to wondering something else." He takes a deep breath and looks at me. "You remember I told you a lady came and talked to me about you when I was at that Muggle vegetable market?" he says.

I nod, hardly daring to breathe.

"Well, I can't be certain," Reg says. "But there was something about her that put me in mind of that one in the House-Elf Office. She looked a bit different, mind - her hair wasn't the same color - but I'm almost sure it was her." He lowers his voice. "You remember I told you she'd got a nice shape to her, don't you? Well, I was always one to notice a good figure - although mind you don't let on to Mary that I said that - and this one's shape put me in mind of that other one."

Bloody hell. Hermione was right. She's never going to let me and Harry live this one down, is she?

"Come on," I say, grabbing his arm. "I need you to come and tell my boss what you just told me."

Reg looks alarmed. "Not Gawain Robards, I can't," he protests, taking a few steps backwards. "The head of the Auror Department's not going to listen to someone like me. And I can't be talking to him about a woman's shape - it isn't proper."

I've still got his arm. "Reg, it's important," I say desperately. "I swear, he'll listen to you." Another thought occurs to me. "Perdita's in there with him right now," I add. "You trust her, don't you?"

Reg allows himself to be persuaded. I half-drag him with me into the Auror Office and knock on Robards' door.

Reg is nervous in front of Robards, but he finally manages to get the story out with me helping him. "That's enough to arrest her, isn't it?" I say eagerly.

"Mr. Cattermole has not positively identified the subject," Robards points out. "And in any case, it would be her word against his." I start to protest, and he holds a hand up, stopping me. "However, Mr. Weasley, I agree that the matter bears looking into. Please be good enough to go to the House-Elf Relocation Office and tell Miss Gamp I should like a word with her."

I'm nearly out the door when he stops me. "Remember, Mr. Weasley, you are not arresting her," he says sternly. "You are merely conveying a message. If Miss Gamp inquires, you will tell her that you do not know what I wish to see her about."

It'd be more fun to arrest her, but she'll be easier to deal with this way, I reckon. "Right," I say, and hurry out before he can think of anything else.

Miranda's not at her desk, but that's just as well. One less person to explain things to, right? Her desk is so neat that I wonder if she's left early for her holidays. I knock on the door of the House-Elf Office. I'm expecting Hermione, but a strange woman's voice tells me to come in.

Hermione's not there, either. Shame, isn't it? She would've really enjoyed this. Damaris gives me an impatient look and sets down her magazine, leaving one finger in it to keep her place. "Well?" she says.

"Miss Gamp?" I say politely. "I'm from the Auror Office. Gawain Robards has something he needs to speak with you about."

Damaris looks less than impressed. "Tell him to ask my secretary," she says. "I'm far too busy just now."

_Doing what, reading about nail varnish?_ "He said it was something really important that only you could help him with," I say, embroidering the truth a little. "I think he needed your advice."

Robards probably wouldn't have approved, but it works a treat on Damaris. "Oh, well, in that case," she says, rising slowly to her feet. "Really, this place just _falls apart_ when I'm not here, doesn't it?"

I don't quite trust myself to answer. "If you'll just follow me," I say, holding the door open for her.

We're all watching Reg's face as I usher Damaris into Robards' office, but he merely looks puzzled.

"What'd you fetch _her_ for?" he asks me. "It was t'other one I meant."

**Hermione**

I start for the lift, but Miranda's already turning toward the stairwell. "It's faster this way," she says. She sees my expression and adds, "Oh, come on, Hermione - it's only up two flights."

I hesitate, but only for a second. After all, it's the middle of the day, and it's not like I'm on my own. "All right," I say.

My nervousness makes me hurry, and I can hear Miranda panting behind me as she struggles to keep up. "I didn't know it was a race," she says, half-laughing. "No, you've gone half a flight too far, Hermione. It's under here."

I look down in surprise to see her ducking under the landing. "There's a door just here," she calls up to me. "See, I told you you'd never find it without me!"

"How odd," I say, coming back down to join her. "I've never noticed a door there." I glance around nervously, but we're alone.

"Magical Maintenance has passages that go under all of the floors," Miranda explains. "You can't get into most of them without a password, but this one takes you straight into their Office."

I wonder if that's where the person who was chasing me the other night came from. I'd better tell Ron and Harry about those passages - I'm sure they don't know.

"Coming?" Miranda says, holding the door open. I hesitate again -I can almost hear Ron in my head, telling me not to go anywhere on my own till we find out who was after me. _But I'm not alone,_ I answer him silently. _And I've got to find Reg, don't I?_

Mind made up, I follow Miranda into the passage.

It's dimly lit, and it smells musty - and it seems to go on forever. "Shouldn't we be there by now?" I ask finally.

Miranda stops and turns. _"Expelliarmus!"_ she says, and my wand flies out of my hand.

I stare at her, too astonished for speech.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," she says, sounding genuinely regretful. "I actually did rather like you." 


	21. Chapter 21

**Harry**

Part of me's tempted to rush straight off to Holyhead, but Ginny's still going to be at practice. I don't want Xanthia Davis to spot me. If I wait till this afternoon I can catch Ginny just as she's getting home.

It's only half-past eleven, and the Café's not crowded yet. I see Dean in a corner, gathering up his brushes, and stroll over to see what he's been doing.

"Nice," I say approvingly, looking at a life-sized mural of the four Founders. Or three of them, anyway. "Where's Slytherin - been outlawed from the Ministry?"

Dean laughs. "I'd leave him off if I thought I could get away with it," he admits. "He's been hell to draw - I can't get the face right at all." He jabs a dripping brush in the direction of several pieces of parchment scattered on the floor.

"This one's close," I say, leafing through the pile. "Only you ought to make the eyes a bit closer together."

"How do you know?" Dean asks. "Met him, have you?"

"In a way," I say, remembering the statue from the Chamber of Secrets. Too bad Dean can't get a look at it.

Dean looks confused. "Anyway, I'm finished for now," he says, stuffing the pieces of parchment into a folder. "I can't get anything done during the lunch rush - I'll come back late this afternoon."

"Have lunch with me before you go," I invite.

Dean fills me in on the rest of his plans for the walls over lunch. "I'd still like to do one of you, Harry," he says, but I shake my head.

"I have to eat in here," I remind him.

Dean grins. "Maybe I'll send McGonagall an owl and offer to paint one for the Slytherin Common Room instead," he says.

We're both laughing when I feel the coin in my pocket glowing hot. A quick glance under the table shows that a large letter "E" has formed itself on the front. Ernie, then.

"I've got to go," I say, deliberately making my tone casual. "I've got to check on something in Magical Records."

Dean looks thoughtful. "Magical Records?" he says. "They've got all sorts of old books and things, don't they? Do you think they might have some decent pictures of Slytherin?"

I hesitate for a second, but it's just as well to have a legitimate excuse for going to Magical Records - and if there's anyone else around, Dean can distract them while I talk to Ernie. "They might," I say.

**Ron**

It takes me a second or two to realize what Reg is saying. "But it's _her_," I argue, pointing at Damaris. "Isn't it?"

"Who does he mean?" Robards interrupts sharply. "Who else works in that office besides Miss Granger?"

"Just Miranda," I say. "She's the secretary. But - "

"Miranda?" Robards repeats. "What's her surname?"

I shrug helplessly.

"Brooks," Damaris offers. "Miranda Brooks." She looks slightly annoyed. "If _that's_ all you needed, I could easily have answered you from my own office."

The rest of us ignore her. "The file," Robards says to Perdita, and she leaves immediately. He turns to me. "Go and fetch her at once."

I'm already starting for the door. "She wasn't there before," I say. "Neither was Hermione."

"Probably gone off together somewhere," Damaris puts in. "Those two are always whispering together."

Bloody hell. I throw Robards a panicked look. "She's got Hermione," I say.

"Mr. Weasley," Robards says. "It is essential that you remain calm. She has not, as you put it, 'got Hermione'. There is no reason to believe that Miss - er - Brooks is guilty of anything other than having a good figure. And if she were, she'd have no reason to think we suspect her."

"Is Miranda in trouble?" Damaris asks, brightening. "Do you really think she's got a good figure? Personally I've always thought she could stand to lose an inch or so off her hips, but - "

No one answers. I turn quickly, hurrying from the room. I can hear Robards, calling after me to calm down, but the hell with him. Anything could have happened to Hermione.

I check the House-Elf Office again first, but it's still empty. I hear footsteps and turn hopefully, but it's just Perdita.

"Perdita, you've got to help me," I say urgently, grabbing her arm. "She's got Hermione, I know it. We have to find out where she's taken her."

Perdita looks doubtful. "Are you sure they haven't just gone to lunch or something?" she asks. "I looked at Miranda's file, Ron - there doesn't seem to be any reason to suspect her."

"Then why has she got a file?" I demand.

"Because Gawain keeps a file on everyone who works for the Ministry," Perdita says. "Miranda Brooks is a pureblood, but she was in Hufflepuff House at school - and most of her family was killed by the Death Eaters a few years ago. Why on earth would she join up with them after that?"

That one stops even me. "I dunno," I admit. "Unless maybe she's been Imperiused?"

"It's possible, I suppose," Perdita says. "But why don't we have a look for them before we go rushing to any conclusions? Have you checked the Ladies Room on this floor?"

"I can't go in there," I protest. "You do it, okay? I'll have a look in the Café. Maybe you're right about them going to lunch."

Perdita eyes me. "Straight to the Café and wait for me there," she says sternly.

"Right," I say. I wait till she disappears into the Ladies Room before turning back into the House-Elf Office. There's no point in checking the Café - Hermione wouldn't have gone to lunch without me when we'd already made plans to meet here. But I wouldn't mind having a quick look through Miranda's desk. There might be something there that'll tell me… well, that'll tell me _something_, anyway.

**Hermione**

Bellatrix Lestrange is leaning over me, but it's not her face - it's Miranda's. _It's just a nightmare,_ I tell myself sternly. _You have to wake up._ I come awake slowly. My eyelids feel heavy, and my head aches. And my throat… I reach automatically for Ron, but encounter only empty space. I sit up with a gasp. I remember now. Miranda - she -

"Miranda?" I whisper uncertainly. I can barely talk. "Where are we? What have you done?"

There's silence, and for a minute I think she's not there, but then she answers. "I haven't _done_ anything, Hermione," she says, sounding so like her normal self that I almost believe I've imagined the whole thing. "Don't be so dramatic."

"Give me my wand back, then," I demand. I feel cautiously for the floor with one foot and realize it's much closer than I'd thought. It must be a mattress I'm lying on, then.

"Oh, I think not," Miranda says, sounding almost amused. "If you had your wand, you'd want to leave, wouldn't you? And I'm afraid I can't allow that." I hear her moving about, quite close to me, and then a light comes on suddenly. I instinctively shut my eyes against the glare.

"Here," Miranda says. "Have some water."

I open my eyes to see a glass hovering near my head. Miranda's keeping well out of reach. "No," I say. It could be poisoned, couldn't it?

"It's just _water_," Miranda says, exasperated. "Fine, don't drink it then. There's a tap in the bathroom if you get thirsty later."

My eyes are becoming accustomed to the light now, and I look around cautiously. I can't tell where we are. It's a small room with stone walls and no windows - and no furniture other than the battered mattress I'm lying on. "What is this place?" I ask. Somehow I don't think we're still in the Magical Maintenance passage, even though there are pipes running round the walls. The room feels as though no one's disturbed it in a very long time - and there are cobwebs hanging from the ceiling.

"It's not important," Miranda says. "You just have to stay here until - well, until it's over."

"Until what's over?" I ask, still confused. "And why have you done this? I don't understand what - " It comes to me in a flash. "It was you, wasn't it? You're the one who approached Reg Cattermole at the vegetable market. And he recognized you this morning."

"I'm not sure if he did or not," Miranda says thoughtfully. "He's not terribly bright, is he? But I couldn't take the chance. And in any case, you were coming far too close to the truth. After all, why else would you send for him to mend a desk that you could easily have repaired yourself?"

"Because I thought it was Damaris," I say indignantly. I can't quite make myself be afraid of Miranda, even now. "I wanted him to get a look at _her_, not you. I never suspected you for a moment. I thought you were - were _good_!"

"Oh, so that was it," Miranda says. "Well, it would have come to this sooner or later, Hermione. You're too clever for your own good."

I think about trying to run, but what use would it be when she's got both my wand and her own? Anyway, I don't think I could make it very far. Whatever spell she put on me has left me feeling weak and disoriented. _"Help!"_ I scream, even though screaming makes me feel as though my throat's being ripped apart. _"Someone help me!"_

"Scream all you like," Miranda says, making no effort to stop me. "It won't matter here."

Definitely not still in the Ministry, then. I lean back, exhausted. I wonder how long it's been since she brought me here. Surely someone's noticed we're gone. Ron was coming to get me at lunch time - it was nearly that when we left to find the Magical Maintenance Office. He'll have missed me by now… he'll be looking… Another thought occurs to me. "Blaise Zabini," I say.

"Yes," Miranda says softly. "Blaise Zabini. Did you wonder, when you saw him speaking to me? I know your friend Harry did - he checked my employment file in Magical Records afterwards."

"He did?" I say blankly. Harry never said.

"He did," Miranda confirms. "But there was nothing incriminating in there, naturally. So he decided I must have been telling the truth. A mistake on his part, but he's new at this Auror business."

"Was Zabini your boyfriend, then?" I ask.

Miranda laughs scornfully. "_He_ certainly thought so," she says. "He amused me for a short time, but he has a bit of a wandering eye and I'm afraid I couldn't put up with that."

I remember Ron saying something about Zabini disappearing. "You didn't - didn't do anything to him, did you?" I ask.

"Well," Miranda says and pauses meaningfully. "Not _yet_, anyway." She takes a step closer and I shrink back against the mattress.

"Don't be an idiot," Miranda says coolly. "If I'd wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already. I just need you - and your Auror friends - to stay out of the way while I finish up what I need to do."

"And then you'll let me go?" I ask.

"Well," Miranda says again. "Perhaps not straight off. I rather think I might be able to make use of you." She peers at me thoughtfully. "Now, how can I convince your fiancé and your good friend Harry Potter that I mean business?" she asks rhetorically. "Ah, I know. Your ring, please."

"No," I protest, but she's already raising her wand.

_"Petrificus totalus!"_ she commands, and I have no choice but to lie there helplessly while she leans over me and pulls the engagement ring from my left hand.

"There," Miranda says, retreating several steps and lifting the spell. "You see, Hermione? If I really meant to hurt you, I'd leave you Petrified until you starved to death. You're not being _mistreated_ at all."

This makes so little sense that I can only stare at her in horror.

"Don't be such a little fool," Miranda says, misinterpreting my expression. "I'm not stealing your precious ring - I can have all the jewels I like. It's just a little something for your boyfriend - in case he decides to try something stupid." She turns, preparatory to Disapparating.

"But why?" I say frantically. I don't understand.

Miranda pauses and looks at me, shaking her head. "You know, Hermione, your life would be much simpler if you wouldn't worry so much," she says, almost kindly. "Maybe you'd better have a nap. Don't you feel sleepy?"

I try to fight it, but I can feel a wave of sleepiness coming over me. My eyelids are so heavy that I can't hold them open. "Wilton," I think, just as I'm sinking into unconsciousness. "This is what she does to Wilton."

And then there's nothing but darkness.

**Harry**

Ernie's alone, but he's able to point Dean toward the proper shelf. I wait till he's out of earshot; then lean forward. "What's happened?" I whisper.

"It may be nothing," Ernie says. "But Draco Malfoy was in here early this morning looking up a list of Ministry employees. He _said_ it was because he was thinking about changing jobs, but seeing as it was Malfoy… well, I thought you'd like to know, that's all." He frowns disapprovingly. "If he _is_ thinking about looking for another job, he shouldn't be so obvious about it," he adds. "Supposing it got back to his boss?"

Malfoy's career at the Ministry is the least of my worries right now. "Did he write any of them down?" I ask.

"He wrote _something_ down," Ernie says. "I couldn't tell what, exactly."

Trying to figure out which names were on Rodolphus's list, I'll bet. He probably came pretty close. I glance over my shoulder and see Dean heading in our direction.

"Anything else?" I ask Ernie quickly.

He shakes his head. "Not really," he says. "Except that Flint - you know, my boss - left in rather a hurry just a few minutes before you got here. He didn't even wait for the lift - he took the stairs."

Unless Ernie knows where he was going, this means absolutely nothing. Flint could have just been late for a meeting or something. "Well, thanks," I say.

Dean joins me. "Have a look at this," he says happily, brandishing a huge book. "You can tell me if it looks right, Harry."

"I'm sorry, Dean, but you can't sign that out," Ernie says fussily. "Ministry employees only, I'm afraid!"

Dean looks crushed. "I'll sign it out for him," I say quickly. "That do all right for you?"

I scribble my name quickly on the form. Dean's already at the door, clearly afraid Ernie's going to change his mind. "I think I can finally finish Slytherin's portrait," he says. "Once that lunch crowd's out of the way, I'm going straight back to the Café."

I leave him happily thumbing through the pages. I'm only halfway down the corridor when I feel the coin heating up again. Susan, this time. I wonder if Malfoy paid a visit to Muggle Relations after he left Magical Records.

"No," Susan says a few minutes later, looking surprised. "I haven't seen Malfoy at all since I've started here. This is about Evelinda."

Evelinda Snodgrass, it turns out, also left the office in rather a hurry not long ago. Maybe something really is going on, then. If some of the others all went tearing off as well… "Thanks," I say, privately deciding I'd better go have a word with Terry Boot and Hermione to see if they noticed anything similar in their own offices.

"One other thing," Susan says as I'm about to leave. "I don't know if it makes a difference, but she took the stairs. I only noticed it because she never does, normally - she's awfully lazy."

The stairs again. I'm not sure why they'd bother - unless they didn't all want to be seen on the lift together. "Thanks," I say again. I'd better go and see Hermione first. Maybe she's got some ideas.

I can hear voices as I approach the House-Elf Office. One of them sounds like Ron's, and I quicken my steps. I push the door open to find him engaged in a heated argument with Perdita.

"- can't just _do_ that!" Perdita's saying indignantly. "You have to have the proper authorization to search someone's things. If she finds out and complains to Gawain about you - "

"She's not going to complain," Ron says heatedly. "And I'm not going to wait around for any bloody authorization when Hermione could be in danger!"

What looks like the entire contents of Miranda's desk are scattered all over the floor. "What the hell's going on?" I ask, joining them. "And where's Hermione?"

Ron's face is white. "She's got her," he says hoarsely. "Miranda. It's her, Harry - it's been her all along."

"Who?" I ask, confused. "Miranda? But it can't be her - I checked her out. Her family was all - "

"- killed by the Death Eaters, I know," Ron says. "Perdita told me. But it's her just the same, Harry. Reg recognized her, and now she's taken Hermione somewhere. Hermione wouldn't just go off like that, Harry - she wouldn't! And her cloak's still here and so's all her other stuff."

I'm starting to feel worried myself. If Ron's right about Miranda being the woman who approached Reg… "Have you tried sending Hermione a Patronus?" I ask.

"There," Perdita says, looking relieved. "That's a good idea. You do that while I put all these things back."

I watch as he pulls out his wand. "What the hell happened to your Patronus?" I can't help asking. It used to be a dog, but it doesn't look like one anymore. "It almost looks like it's trying to swim."

"There," Ron says, ignoring my last question. "She'll answer me straight off - if she can."

Perdita glances up from Miranda's desk. "It does look funny, doesn't it?" she remarks. She grins suddenly. "What's Hermione's Patronus? Some sort of fish?"

"An otter," I say, getting it right off.

"Huh?" Ron says. "You think it's - but I'm the _man_! Hers ought to be the one that changes!"

"Don't be such a male chauvinist," Perdita tells him. "It can happen either way."

Despite my anxiety, I can't help smiling at the outraged expression on Ron's face. "Cheer up," I say. "I'm sure it'll be a _male_ otter."

"I don't care what it turns into as long as she answers," Ron says, pacing back and forth.

Perdita and I exchange worried looks as the minutes go by.

"Okay," Perdita says finally, when it's obvious there's not going to be a response. "We need to go straight back and tell Gawain what's happening." She puts a hand on Ron's arm. "Don't look like that, Ron. We'll find her, I swear. You'll have the whole Auror Department helping you." She turns to leave and then hesitates. "What's happened to Wilton Sikes? I can't believe he hasn't heard all the noise we've been making."

I put my ear against the door of Sikes' office. "He's snoring," I report. "Guess he's a heavy sleeper."

Perdita looks disgusted. "He can bloody well wake up, then," she says, pushing the door open unceremoniously. "Mr. Sikes? Wilton?"

"Wake up," Ron says, shaking him by the shoulder. Sikes frowns slightly in his sleep and then settles into a more comfortable position with his face pillowed on a stack of parchment.

"This isn't ordinary sleep," Perdita says, frowning. "Get out of the way, Ron. _Ennervate!_"

A second later, Sikes is blinking at us. "Goodness, what are you all doing in here?" he asks. "Dropped off, did I? But who are you - and where's my secretary?"

"That," Perdita says, "is a very good question."

She's about to say more when an owl swoops in and drops a small package in front of Ron.

"Careful," Perdita starts, but he's already ripping it open. Something falls out into his hand - something small and sparkling.

"It's Hermione's," Ron whispers. His face is chalk-white. "Her engagement ring."

"Chucked you, has she?" Sikes says sympathetically. "Never mind, my boy, there are plenty of other mermaids in the lagoon, you know! And if you don't mind me saying so, you're a bit on the young side to be thinking of marriage."

Ron doesn't even look at him. "Harry," he whispers.

"Is there a message?" I ask, trying not to show my growing fear. Hermione'd never break up with Ron - and if she did, she'd probably throw the ring in his face, not send it by owl. Ron's right - someone has her.

Ron looks like he's paralyzed. Perdita reaches out and takes the wrapping from his lifeless hand, smoothing it out on the desk.

"'_Keep the Aurors out of this if you want to see her alive'_," she reads aloud. "Hmm. Well, that's short and to the point, isn't it?"

"Is it signed?" I ask.

Perdita shakes her head, tossing me the wrapper. Sikes peers over my shoulder. "That looks like Miranda's writing," he remarks. "Have any of you seen her, by the way? She was supposed to wake me in time for my Department meeting and I'm afraid I've missed it now."

"There," Ron says to Perdita. "Do you believe me now?"

"Yeah," Perdita says, looking shaken. "Come on, all of you - we've got to take this to Gawain right away." She turns to Sikes. "You'd better come, too - he'll want to hear everything you know about this Miranda."

"Are you completely mental?" Ron demands. "You read the note - she said to keep the Aurors out of it."

Perdita and I exchange glances. "Ron, _we're_ the Aurors," I point out.

"We have a much better chance of finding her unharmed if we let Gawain take charge," Perdita says to him gently. "You've got to trust him on this, Ron."

I manage to catch her eye. "Let me talk to him," I say in a low voice. "You go on ahead with Sikes, all right?"

"Perdita's right, Ron," I say, once she's disappeared with Sikes. "We have to trust Robards - we need his help on this one." I wait till he looks at me and add, "he saved the two of you last time, remember?"

"Yeah," Ron says finally. He turns and looks indecisively at Miranda's desk. "It's my fault!" he bursts out. "I shouldn't have left her - I even said it was all right for her to be here as long as Miranda was around!"

"Well, you couldn't have known," I point out sympathetically. "Come on, let's go."

Ron ignores me, picking up a half-empty bottle of Madam Citrona's Lemon Remedy from the desk in front of him. "What if she's Talitha?" he says slowly.

"Who, Miranda?" I can't quite get my mind around that one. I think it's much more likely that she's been Imperiused.

"She's got this lemon stuff," Ron argues.

"So does Persimmon," I point out. "Do you think _she's_ Talitha?"

Ron sets the bottle down without another word and starts out the door. "What were you doing here, anyway?" he asks.

It takes me a second to remember. "Ernie and Susan both reported that Flint and Snodgrass left in a big hurry," I explain. "I wanted to see if Hermione'd noticed anyone rushing out of Magical Creatures." I start to ask why he didn't notice his own coin growing hot, then realize he had other things on his mind.

"Maybe they're in on it," Ron says at once. "Maybe they helped Miranda kidnap Hermione. Did either Ernie or Susan know where they went?"

I shake my head. "Just that they both took the stairs," I say.

I'm about to follow him into Robards' office when I remember Malfoy. "Go on without me, " I tell Ron, hurrying back toward the lift again.

Someone's coming out of the Proofreading Room when I walk by, and I catch a momentary glimpse of Malfoy looking unspeakably bored as he leafs carelessly through a booklet. Good, that's him sorted for now.

Perdita gives me a questioning look as I push open Robards' door, and I nod at her reassuringly.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Robards says, looking up. "I trust you have already been fully informed of the situation?"

Ron's pacing again. "I'm going out to look for her," he says to no one in particular, starting for the door.

"Mr. Weasley!" Robards says sharply. "Sit down. You'll do nothing of the sort."

Ron turns on him furiously. "Like hell!" he snaps. "It's all right for you - it's not _your_ girlfriend who's in trouble!"

Part of me realizes incredulously that Ron's really lost it to be speaking to Robards like that - but the other part is thinking about what he just said. _Not your girlfriend… _but it could be. Malfoy tried to warn me, didn't he?

"We have people in place guarding all of the exits," Robards is saying, clearly trying to be patient. "Another team is searching every floor as we speak. If they're in the Ministry, we shall find them. If - yes, Mr. Potter, what is it?"

I realize I've been staring at him. "Ginny," I manage.

"Go and fetch her at once," Robards says, comprehending immediately.

Much to my surprise, he follows me out into the corridor. "About Mr. Weasley," he begins, and I turn to him incredulously.

"You're not going to hold what he said against him, are you?" I demand. "He's upset, that's all. It's his fiancée that's gone missing."

"I have no intention of holding anything against him," Robards says calmly. "I understand that young Mr. Weasley is in a highly agitated state at the moment. I merely wished to ask for your assistance in keeping him calm. It is imperative that he not fly off the handle and go chasing after Miss Granger and Miss Brooks. This is potentially a highly dangerous situation."

I can't help thinking that if Robards had seen Ron in the Malfoys' cellar, he'd know better than to think anybody can hold him back at this point. "Ginny and I will come straight back here," I promise.

**Draco**

That old had Edgecombe told me I had to work through lunch to make up for taking time off this morning, but I have absolutely no intention of doing so. I'd better not eat in the Ministry Café, though - she's probably in there.

I'm hesitating on the street outside the Ministry when I see Warrington and Nott beckoning to me from the alley. "What are you two doing here?" I ask, joining them. Neither of them works at the Ministry - neither of them works at all.

"Haven't you heard yet?" Nott asks, grinning at me. "It's _on_, Malfoy."

"What's on?" I say, feeling slightly annoyed. If they've come to try and drag me off to another one of their drinks parties…

"Keep your voice down," Warrington warns, glancing around warily. "We don't know exactly - we were just told to report here immediately. Someone ought to be coming along pretty soon to fill us in." He lowers his voice. "Nott's right - something big's going down."

Now I'm getting nervous. I definitely don't want any part of the "something big", whatever it is. "I'd better not be seen talking to you," I say hastily. "Just in case." I start back toward the Ministry, but Warrington grabs my arm.

"Either you're one of us or you're not, Malfoy," he says. I don't quite like the look in his eye.

"Of course I'm with you," I say quickly. "It's just that I was told to keep everything undercover."

"Yeah, well things have changed," Nott tells me. "From now on,  
>you -" He breaks off at the sight of a witch in a black cloak coming toward us.<p>

"Lovely weather, isn't it?" she says briskly.

I stare at her. The woman must be mad - it's freezing cold and it looks like snow.

"Almost tropical," Warrington answers. I stare at him in turn before realizing it must be some sort of password.

"Right," the witch is saying briskly. "Which of you is Draco Malfoy?"

I'm tempted not to answer, but Nott gives me a shove. "Er, I am," I say reluctantly.

The witch looks me over. "You can come with me," she says. She turns to Warrington and Nott. "You two wait here," she says. "Someone will be along with further instructions." She turns and starts down the street without another word.

"Hope they hurry up," Warrington grumbles under his breath. "It's bloody freezing out here."

"Thought it was tropical," I can't resist saying.

Nott gives me another shove. "Go on, why don't you," he says.

I don't want to, but I don't dare to disobey. I leave them without another word and catch up with the witch in the black cloak.

"Come on, we have to hurry," she says. "She's waiting." She turns into another alley and stops, holding out her arm. "Come on, can't you?" she says. "I haven't got all day, you know."

Reluctantly, I place my hand on the outstretched arm and let her Disapparate with me.

**Ron**

Robards is questioning Sikes, but he doesn't seem to know much. "She's a brilliant secretary," he keeps repeating. "The best I ever had."

Yeah, well, anybody'd think that if they'd been under some sort of sleeping spell for months, wouldn't they?

"And how long has she worked for you?" Robards asks.

This is a waste of time - we should be _doing_ something. I move to get up, but Robards gives me one of his looks. I try to concentrate on what I know about Miranda. Hermione's mentioned her often enough, but it's mostly things to do with work. "She's got a boyfriend," I interrupt. "Miranda, I mean. Only she just split up with him. And she's supposed to be leaving on holiday tomorrow - some place called Soleil."

"Oh, is that where she's going?" Sikes asks with interest. "I do hate it when she's on holiday - things get frightfully confused."

Robards looks over at Perdita and she gets up at once. "We had the holiday information already," she says. "But we didn't know about the boyfriend. Don't suppose you know his name?"

I shake my head. "I think he was supposed to meet her at Amortentia on New Year's Eve," I say. "Maybe somebody there saw them."

"Right," Perdita says. "I'm on it."

"I'll go with - " I start, but Robards shakes his head. Bloody hell. I'll go mad, sitting here. Hermione needs me - I have to go and look for her.

"Try to think, Mr. Sikes," Robards is saying. "Is there anything else you can tell us about Miranda Brooks?"

I throw Perdita a pleading look. "Oh, all right," she says, exasperated. "Gawain, let him come with me, yeah?"

"Mr. Weasley," Robards says sternly. "Can I trust you?"

_Maybe._ "Yes," I say quickly. "Come on, Perdita."

"Will anyone be at that Amortentia place if we go there now?" Perdita asks, once we're in the corridor. "Those sorts of clubs are usually only open at night."

"Dean might know where Seamus is," I offer. "We can probably catch him before he leaves the Café if we hurry."

"I have no idea who Dean and Seamus are," Perdita says, walking briskly toward the lift. "But you seem to know what to - what's wrong?"

I can feel the coin in my pocket - it's hot. I pull it out, ignoring Perdita's curious look, and examine it. T? Oh yeah - Terry. Maybe he knows something about Hermione.

"I thought we were going to the Café," Perdita says, watching me press the button for Level Three. "And why do you keep playing with that coin?"

"I've just remembered that my friend Terry was at Amortentia that night, too," I say, dropping the coin back into my pocket. "He might have seen something." It's not a lie, exactly - Terry _was_ at Amortentia, and he _might_ have noticed something - right?

Perdita looks doubtful, but follows me off the lift on the third floor and into magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Terry Boot looks up from his desk and waves at me.

"Terry, this is Perdita from the Auror Department," I say quickly, before he can say anything to give me away. "We need to ask you if you remember seeing somebody at Seamus's club on New Year's."

Terry remembers Zabini and Malfoy showing up, but he didn't notice Zabini talking to any girls. "I was too busy trying to chat one up myself," he says, grinning at us. "Sorry."

"No problem," Perdita says. "If you think of anything, let us know. Come on, Ron."

I roll my eyes at Terry and shrug. "As long as you're here, let me pay you back that five Galleons I owe you," Terry says smoothly. "I've got it in my cloak in the other room." He gets up and strolls toward the back of the room without waiting to see if I follow.

"I'd better go with him," I say to Perdita. "I'll meet you by the lift." I hurry after Terry without waiting to see what she does.

"Nice one," I say in a low voice, catching up. "Right, what's going on?"

"Maybe nothing," Terry says, frowning. "But Gordon Greengrass went tearing out of here like the place was on fire about a half-hour ago, and he still hasn't come back."

That's three of them. "Know where he went?" I ask, but Terry's already shaking his head.

"He took the stairs, that's all I know," he says.

Perdita's tapping her foot when I come out. "What was that all about?" she demands. "And don't try to tell me you lent him five Galleons - I know how much trainees get paid!"

"I'll explain on the way," I say. "Only, Perdita? Let's take the stairs."

**Hermione**

I can't tell if it's hours or days later when I open my eyes again. It's still dark, but after awhile my eyes grow accustomed to the dimness and I can see well enough to get cautiously to my feet. My head still hurts, but not as badly as it did before.

What I need - desperately - is a drink of water. Didn't Miranda say something about a bathroom? I edge carefully across the room, guided by the sound of dripping water. I reach out a tentative hand and find the edge of a sink; then a tap.

I have a feeling I'd be appalled by the state of the fixtures in here, but I'm so thirsty I don't care. I cup my hands under the tap and drink greedily; then splash cold water on my face. Something falls off the edge of the sink, and I bend down to pick it up. Oh, brilliant - a candle. I can't think when I've been so pleased to see one before. After several minutes I'm able to locate a box of matches as well. I strike one and light the candle. The glow is feeble, but it makes me feel better.

Now to get out of here. I can't Disapparate without a wand, but there must be some other way out of here. Patient searching at last leads me to the outline of a trap door in the ceiling. I stare at it hopelessly. It's several feet above my head, and there's nothing I can use to climb on.

Hang on, though. The pipes run all along the inside of the room, almost like a lattice, right up to the ceiling. I'm not sure if they'll take my weight, but there's nothing to lose by trying. I wedge the candle into a crack in the floor and step carefully onto the lowest pipe.

Several long minutes later, I've managed to reach the ceiling. I lean forward cautiously and push at the trap door.

It's locked. Frustrated, I slam my hands against it and immediately lose my balance. I land hard on the floor, painfully twisting my ankle.

I try to stand, but the ankle gives way almost at once. I drag myself back to the mattress and collapse on it. _Crying won't do any good,_ I tell myself sternly, but I can't seem to stop. I know Ron and Harry will be looking for me, but how will they ever find me?

After a while I sleep again, and my dreams are dark and disturbing. I dream of Bellatrix, and Greyback - and an elf with huge, glowing eyes. Dobby, I think, half-waking. Only Dobby's dead - he can't help me now. I have to find a way to break that trap door open - it's my only chance of escape. 

**Harry**

Practice seems to be over, but I spot two girls on their way into the changing room and hurry over to them.

"Er, hi," I say, feeling slightly awkward. "Can you tell me if Ginny Weasley's in there?"

"You're Harry, aren't you?" one of them says. "I'm Gloria, Ginny's flatmate."

The owner of the pink dressing gown. "Nice to meet you," I say shaking hands hastily. "Would you mind getting Ginny for me? It's sort of important."

"She's left already," Gloria says. "She's probably back at the flat by now."

"Gloria?" a voice calls from within the changing room. "Who are you talking to?"

The two girls exchange a look. "Nosy old cow, isn't she?" the other one whispers.

"Nobody," Gloria calls back. She moves away from the door, motioning me to follow. "That Xanthia Davis is always spying on us," she whispers, once we're several feet away. "And she's got it in for Ginny - she sent her home early from practice because she said she wasn't flying well enough."

"It was complete rubbish," the other girl says indignantly. "Ginny'd just scored a goal when she sent her off. _I_ think Xanthia's jealous of her."

I don't like the sound of that. It means Ginny's been by herself for - "How long ago was this?" I interrupt.

Gloria considers. "Half an hour, maybe? We were nearly finished with practice anyway. I'll be glad when Gwenog comes back."

"Thanks," I say. "I'll try the flat, then." _Please be there, Ginny._

I Apparate to the alley just outside Ginny's flat and race up the stairs. "Ginny!" I call, pounding on the door. "Ginny, it's me. Let me in!"

**Draco**

"Why've you brought me here?" I demand, looking around. We seem to be in an old abandoned house - and if you ask me, it was abandoned with good reason. I wouldn't even put a house-elf in a place like this.

"We have a job for you," the witch says calmly.

I glance around again suspiciously. "Here?" I can't help saying.

The witch shrugs. "This is where she told me to bring you," she says. "She asked for you specifically, so mind you do a good job."

"Who told you?" I ask. The way that witch keeps saying "she" reminds me of Rodolphus the other night. "Who?" I ask again. "Talitha?"

The witch grabs my arm. "How do you know about Talitha?" she hisses, shoving her wand against my throat.

"I don't," I say quickly, trying to twist away. "I just overheard the name once, that's all."

The witch lets me go, but her eyes are suspicious. I'm almost relieved when the door opens and another woman walks in. She looks a bit familiar for some reason - maybe she works at the Ministry.

"Excellent, you've brought him," she says, nodding at the witch in the black cloak. "I'll take it from here, Evelinda."

Evelinda? She must be the Snodgrass woman, then. And the other one… "I know who you are!" I burst out. "You work in the House-Elf Office." She's on _our_ side? I thought she and Granger were friends.

The two women ignore me. "What about the other two?" the House-Elf woman's saying.

"I left them for Simon, but I'm not sure how much good they're going to do him," Evelinda says. "Neither of them looked terribly bright."

"Simon?" I ask. "Simon Parkinson?"

Again they ignore me. "You'd better go," the House-Elf woman says to Evelinda.

"A quick word, first," Evelinda says, drawing her aside. I can't make out all she's saying, but I definitely hear the words "knows about Talitha."

"… long as he doesn't know who…" the other one says, but I miss the rest of it.

Evelinda turns and Disapparates, and the other witch strides over to me. "Right," she says briskly. "I'm Miranda Brooks, from - as you've already realized - the House-Elf Relocation Office." She smiles coldly. "Your primary contact, _remember_?"

"Er," I say. "Right."

Miranda eyes me. "Nice try," she says. "I told Rodolphus you probably lost that list he gave you, but he didn't believe me."

Under the circumstances, I think I'd better not say anything. I wait, and finally she speaks again.

"I've had my doubts about you from the beginning, Draco," she says. "Rodolphus swears you're loyal to us. Is he right?"

"Yeah," I say quickly. "I've always been loyal, I swear!"

"Have you, indeed?" Miranda says skeptically. "I'll give you one last chance to prove it. I need you to do a special job for me."

"Anything," I say. I try to make my expression look loyal, but it feels like I just look stupid.

"It's easy enough," Miranda says. "There's a prisoner being held in the cellar. I need you to guard her." She points to a trap door in the floor. "That's the only way in or out."

Well, that doesn't sound terribly hard - especially with whoever-it-is locked up in the cellar and presumably without a wand.

"Okay," I say, pulling out my wand. "I'll just stand here and watch the trap door, then, will I?"

Miranda gives me the cold smile again. "Oh, no," she says softly. "I really think it best if you watch her in person, Draco." She flicks her wand at the trap door and it springs up suddenly. "Down you go," she says.

I don't want to, but I don't see any way out. Anyway, I suppose I can come back upstairs as soon as she goes. I sit down on the edge of the opening and swing my legs over.

"One more thing," Miranda says. _"Expelliarmus!"_

I grab at my wand, but she was too quick for me. "Why can't I have it?" I protest. "Suppose the prisoner tries to overpower me and I need to Stun her?"

Miranda laughs shortly. "She's not going to overpower you," she says. "I put a strong enough Sleeping Charm on her to keep her knocked out for the next few hours." She tucks my wand firmly into her pocket and points hers at me. "Down you go," she says again.

Well, it's not as though I have any choice. I lower myself cautiously into the darkness. My feet don't reach the floor and I hesitate, clinging to the edge of the trap door. "I can't see anything," I say.

"It's only a few feet," Miranda's voice says from above me. "Just drop."

She'll probably slam the trap door on my fingers if I don't. I drop, landing hard on my knees. Above me, I hear the trap door close firmly.

I have a bad feeling about this - but I can't think what else I could have done. Once I'm sure she's gone I'll look for a way out.

I hear something stirring and nearly jump out of my skin before I remember the prisoner. So there really is someone else down here - I was beginning to wonder.

"Who's there?" a voice whispers. "Miranda? Is that you? Miranda, please let me go. I won't tell anyone about you, I swear."

There's something familiar about that voice, isn't there? Something familiar… and irritating. "Oh, please not," I whisper.

"Who's there?" the voice says again, sounding panicked. There's a scraping sound, and suddenly I see a candle burning in one corner. The glow is faint, but it's enough to illuminate the face of the person holding it.

"I don't believe it," I say, disgusted. "How the hell did you wind up down here, Granger?"

**Ron**

It doesn't take me long to find what I'm looking for. "Perdita!" I call. "Hurry up!"

Perdita comes panting up the stairs behind me. "What, for heaven's sake?"

"There," I say, pointing triumphantly. "There's a door hidden under here."

"Well, so what?" Perdita says. "Magical Maintenance uses that. I think they store things in there or something. Come on, Ron - we've got to track down this Dean person."

"In a minute," I say stubbornly. "I want to see what's in here." I don't know why I'm so set on seeing what's behind that door, except that everything seems to lead back to the stairs, doesn't it? Hermione being followed, and then all of those people today…

"Well, do it fast," Perdita says, glancing at her watch. "I don't know if this Amortentia lead is going to get us anywhere, but it's all we've got right now, so - "

I'm already opening the door. "Thought you said it was a storage cupboard," I say, lighting my wand and stepping inside.

"Isn't it?" Perdita asks, surprised. "I've seen people from Magical Maintenance bringing things out of here, and I always thought - goodness, it's some sort of passage!"

"Come on," I say, starting down the passage. "Let's see where it goes."

I don't wait to see if she's following me, but after a minute I hear her footsteps and slow down to wait for her. "We really shouldn't be doing this," Perdita says reproachfully.

"Feels like we're going uphill, doesn't it?" I say, ignoring her last comment. I bend to look more closely at the floor, and spot something next to my foot.

"What's that?" Perdita asks. "Ron, are you all right? What is it?"

I hold it up so she can see. "It's Hermione's," I whisper. "They must have taken her out this way."

Perdita leans closer to see. "You're sure it's hers?" she asks doubtfully. "It's just an ordinary hair clip - anyone could have dropped it at any time."

"It's hers," I say. I ought to know - I take it out of Hermione's hair all the time because it digs into my shoulder when we sit together. "Anyway, look at this." I open the clip carefully and show her a long strand of wavy brown hair clinging to the edge.

"All right," Perdita says, sounding a bit more convinced. "I suppose it's possible - it would certainly explain why no one's seen them. Let's see where this passage takes us - and mind you keep your wand out!"

I've had my wand out anyway - it's the only way I can see what I'm doing - but I don't bother answering. I start down the passage again with Perdita close at my heels.

Several minutes later the passage takes a sharp turn and then ends abruptly.

"Another door," Perdita says in a low voice. "Well, shall we?"

I nod and reach for the knob. Daylight rushes in as I pull the door cautiously open.

"Is that the street?" Perdita asks, sounding astonished. "I didn't think there was any way out except through the Atrium."

"Well, someone knew about it," I say grimly. "That's how Miranda got Hermione out without anyone seeing her - she took her out through here." I turn and look at Perdita. "They could be anywhere by now, couldn't they?"

Perdita squeezes my arm. "We'll find her, I promise," she says. "Finding this passage was a good start. I think Gawain had better have a look at it - he might pick up something we've missed."

"Go and get him, then," I suggest. "I'll stay here and guard this end in case anyone else tries to come through."

Perdita looks hesitant. "I don't like leaving you on your own here," she says.

"Go on, I'll be all right," I tell her. "I Disarmed Bellatrix Lestrange once; did I ever tell you that?" I decide to leave out the part about Bellatrix managing to re-arm herself pretty damned fast. There's no point in cluttering things up with unnecessary details.

"That," Perdita says sternly, "is not what I meant. Do you promise to stay here?"

"Where'm I going to go?" I ask reasonably. "It's not like I know which direction they went in."

Perdita looks unconvinced, but she carefully eases the door open and checks the street. "It's clear," she whispers. "I'll go in through the main entrance - it's quicker. And maybe you ought to wait out here. It'd be too easy for someone to sneak up behind you in the dark."

I follow her out and take up a position against the wall just outside the door. There's not much back here - the street runs behind all of the buildings and borders a park on one side. The whole area's deserted except for a few Muggles in the distance.

Perdita turns and looks at me before she goes. _"Stay,"_ she says firmly.

She's hardly turned the corner when I hear a faint voice calling my name. "Dennis?" I say disbelievingly, staring at the figure crawling out from under a hedge. "Er - Aloysius, I mean. What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you," Dennis says eagerly. "I couldn't believe my luck when I saw you and that girl standing there. I didn't know how to find you without going into the Ministry, and I was afraid someone would recognize me, even with my disguise."

I can't help wishing Dennis had picked a better time. "Look, Dennis," I say. "No offense, but I'm sort of in the middle of something here. Do you think whatever it is can wait?"

Dennis shakes his head. "Winky said it couldn't," he answers.

"Winky?" I look around, half expecting to see her appear from the hedge as well.

"She's left," Dennis informs me. "She's afraid of the Ministry - I don't know why, exactly. She said it was important, though."

He's losing me. "What's important?" I ask, and then hold up a hand. "Wait - start from the beginning."

Dennis takes a deep breath. "Winky came in when I was practicing Summoning Charms, and she said I had to come with her right away to fetch you because it was very important, and to bring you back to Hogsmeade, and then she left me in the hedge and Disapparated," he says, all in a rush. "Oh, and I think it's got something to do with Hermione, because she said something about 'he must save his Miss', and I reckon that'd be Hermione, wouldn't it?"

I take a step closer, grabbing his wrist. "Hermione?" I say. "She knows where Hermione is?"

Dennis backs up. "I dunno, honest," he says plaintively. "Is Hermione lost? Do you want me to help you look for her? Only do you think you could let go of my wrist first? Because you're sort of cutting off my circulation."

"Sorry," I say, letting go. I glance back over my shoulder at the entrance to the passage. Perdita's going to absolutely kill me, but it can't be helped. "Put your hand on my arm," I say to Dennis. "We're going to Hogsmeade."

**Harry**

There's no answer from within the flat. I think about breaking the door down; then realize I probably wouldn't be able to. I put so many protection charms on it that I don't quite remember them all myself.

_All right, think,_ I tell myself sternly. Just because Ginny's not in there doesn't mean she's been kidnapped. She might have walked home instead of Apparating - or stopped off someplace to run an errand - or… _Or been kidnapped,_ my mind persists. I give in and retreat to the alley to send off a Patronus. I make sure to whisper in the message, just in case Ginny's being watched.

Much to my relief, I get an answer right away. "Harry, someone's following me," the silver fawn whispers in Ginny's voice. "I'm hiding, but I don't dare tell you where in case they can hear me."

My heart races. She needs to get out of there, but it's too risky for her to come here, and I don't want to send her to the Ministry when we don't know who we can trust. Inspiration strikes suddenly. "Ginny, meet me at the place where Dennis is," I say. "Go now."

I watch the stag bound out of sight and then Disapparate. If anyone overheard, I've just given away the fact that we know where Dennis is, but somehow I think the other side's got more important things to worry about than a runaway Muggle-born.

I reach the street just outside the Hog's Head and stand tensely, waiting. A second later I hear a popping noise, and then Ginny appears next to me. "Inside, quick," I say, grabbing her hand. Ab looks up as we both burst in.

"You got here fast," he remarks, not looking at all surprised to see us. "I hadn't even sent you the message yet."

What? Never mind. I pull Ginny close.

"Who was following you?" I ask, several minutes later. "Could you see them?"

Ginny shakes her head. "I know there was more than one, that's all," she says. "I was walking home from practice because I was too angry to Apparate - bloody Xanthia; I'll tell you about it later - and I could hear footsteps behind me, but every time I'd stop, they'd stop. And a couple of times I thought I heard people whispering, but there was no one there." She shudders slightly. "I ducked behind a Muggle house to see if I could shake them long enough to Disapparate - and then I got your message and came here."

I wrap my arms around her again. "If you two have finished," Ab says dryly. "There've been some strange things happening around here, too."

Ginny raises her head from my shoulder to look at him. "What sort of things, Ab?" she asks. "And where's Den - er, Aloysius?"

"Well, that's just it," Ab says. "He's disappeared someplace - and that house-elf with him. I haven't seen either one of 'em since this morning."

**Hermione**

"Well, you needn't swear," I say finally, after several minutes of listening to Malfoy vent his feelings. Honestly, he's worse than Ron. "It's not going to do any good. And if it comes to that, what are _you_ doing here?"

"Guarding you," Malfoy says. "At least that's what she told me - Miranda, or whatever her real name is."

"But that's brilliant," I say, relieved. "You can get us out of here."

"Glad _you_ think so," Malfoy says.

"You have to," I plead. "Look, Malfoy, I know you don't like me, but you must know that Ron and Harry will both come after you with everything they've got if you leave me here. I'm afraid she'll kill me - I think she's a bit mad, actually."

"I couldn't get you out if I wanted to," Malfoy answers. "She took my wand."

"Oh," I say slowly. Then the full import hits me. "She doesn't trust you, then," I realize. "She's probably going to kill you, too."

"Thanks a lot, Granger," Malfoy says sharply. "I'd never have come up with that on my own. Why don't you use that so-called cleverness of yours to think up a way out of here?"

I try to ignore the tone, reminding myself that he's probably terrified. "The only way out is through the trap door, but it's locked," I say. "I managed to climb up those pipes to the ceiling, but I couldn't get it to open."

Malfoy looks slightly impressed, but immediately tries to hide it. "Are you positive it was locked?" he asks. "Maybe it was just stuck. Maybe if you stood on my shoulders you could reach it."

Oh dear. "I can try," I say doubtfully. I'm still not sure my ankle will take any weight, but I'm afraid to look weak in front of Malfoy. It'd be just like him to save himself and abandon me here.

Malfoy starts for the far wall.

"It's easier if you start over here - " I start to say, but he cuts me off.

"Shut up!" he whispers. "I can hear them."

Who? I manage to limp over to where he is. Malfoy's got his ear up against the largest pipe. I lean closer and listen.

" - said she brought him here to you," a man's voice is saying.

"She did," Miranda's voice answers coolly. "I had a special job for him. He's guarding a prisoner for me."

"Are you sure that was wise, Talitha?" the man says. "He's our only lead, you know."

Talitha? _She's_ Talitha? Malfoy and I exchange stunned looks.

"Is he?" Miranda says lightly. "I don't think anyone took it from him. I think he's got it hidden somewhere. And as your methods have proven so unreliable, I think we'd better give mine a try."

The man mumbles something I can't hear, and then Miranda speaks again. "You'd better get back, hadn't you?" she says. "Check in with Adrian, and tell him we're ready for step three. I'll meet you there."

Back where? And what's step three? I hear a sharp crack, followed by another, and realize they've Disapparated.

"So she's Talitha," Malfoy whispers, staring at me. "Right under Potter's nose, wasn't she?"

Something doesn't add up - but I can't think about it now. "Come on," I say to Malfoy. "Let's try that door."

Malfoy bends and I manage, after several attempts, to climb onto his shoulders. My ankle's agony, but I try to ignore it.

Malfoy has difficulty in straightening. "You're heavier than you look, Granger," he pants.

I'm not, actually - it's just that he's not terribly strong. Ron doesn't have any trouble picking me up. "Sorry," I say sharply.

"Never mind," Malfoy says. "It could be worse - I could be stuck down here with Millicent Bulstrode. I'd never make it off my knees."

It surprises a laugh out of me - a laugh that ends in a gasp of pain when he grabs my ankles to steady me.

"Right," Malfoy says, not noticing. "We're directly under the trap door. Give it a good shove."

I push with all my strength, but the door refuses to budge. "It must have a charm on it," I say finally.

Malfoy lets me down and I drag myself back to the mattress, trying to ignore the shooting pains in my ankle. "Maybe there's something I could use to break it down with," he mutters, looking around.

It won't do any good against a charm, but all of a sudden I haven't got the strength to say so. "You're going to try to climb up there, then?" I ask.

"Damned right," Malfoy says shortly. "I don't want to be step three."

The Sleeping Charm's taking over again, and I can hardly keep my eyes open, but there's one thing I need to ask. "Who was that man?" I say sleepily.

"My uncle," Malfoy answers. "Rodolphus Lestrange." He turns to look at me as he says it. "You're not going to sleep, are you?" he asks incredulously.

"Can't help it," I manage, sinking fast. "It's a spell - she did it - Miranda…"

**Ron**

Dennis and I arrive in the woods just outside Hogsmeade. "You're sure this is where Winky wanted us to go?" I ask, looking around. "Why not just go to the Hog's Head?"

Dennis shrugs. "Dunno," he says simply.

I'm about to ask where the hell she is, in that case, when something grabs my foot. I recognize Winky just in time to stop myself from flinging her into the trees. "Winky, do you know something about Hermione?" I ask, bending my face down to hers.

Winky won't look at me. "Winky is a bad, bad elf!" she whimpers, banging her head against the ground. "But Miss is good, and Winky must help her!"

I look at Dennis, but he looks just as mystified by all this as I am. "Winky, stop it," I say, grabbing her firmly by the shoulders. "You're a good elf, all right? And if you help me find Hermione, you'll be the best elf in the world and I'll jinx anyone who doesn't agree with me. All right?"

Winky stops crying and wraps both arms around my ankles. "You is very, very kind, sir!" she says, looking up at me adoringly. "And Winky will help you, even though Winky is disobeying orders."

I let this one go - we can work it all out later. "Winky, where's Hermione?" I ask, cutting straight to the most important thing.

"Winky will show you, sir," Winky says, wiping her eyes and getting up. "But we must be very quiet - and it would help to be invisible."

I do a quick Disillusionment Charm on myself; then on a wide-eyed Dennis. Winky turns and we follow her as silently as possible through the trees to a very familiar looking building. The Shrieking Shack? "In there?" I whisper, and Winky nods.

"You will find them in the cellar, sir," she whispers back. "Be very careful, sir - and now Winky must go, sir!"

Them? But Winky's already gone. I motion Dennis to stay behind me and slip cautiously up to the Shack. I can't hear anything inside. "Stay here," I whisper. "Guard the front. Can you do a Patronus Charm?"

Dennis nods. "Mine's a puppy," he says.

Of course it is. "Well, send me one if you see anybody approaching," I tell him. "I'm going to see if I can find a way into the cellar." I didn't even know there was a cellar in this place. They should've burned it down, if you ask me.

Trying not to think about what happened the last time we were here, I carefully ease the door open. The Shack seems to be deserted. I don't dare call Hermione's name - someone might be listening.

There's a trap door in the floor - maybe that's the way down. I put my ear against it and listen.

"- bloody well wake up, can't you?" someone's saying irritably. "I don't care what kind of spell you're under - you're lousy company, Granger!"

"Malfoy?" I say aloud, forgetting caution.

"Who's that?" Malfoy's voice says sharply.

The trap door's locked, but to my relief it opens to _Alohomora_. "It's me," I answer, sticking my head in. "I've come to get you out. Is Hermione with you? Is she all right?"

"Hurry up, can't you?" Malfoy says frantically. "They could be coming back any minute!"

I light my wand and check the cellar out carefully before dropping over the side of the trap door. Hermione's lying on a mattress in the middle of the floor.

"She's just asleep," Malfoy says, watching me hurry over to her. "Miranda or Talitha or whatever her name is put some sort of charm on her. She wakes up every once in a while, but she can't stay that way."

_"Ennervate,"_ I say, remembering Sikes. Hermione stirs slightly on the mattress and I kneel down, gathering her in my arms.

"Ron?" she whispers. "Am I dreaming?"

"More like a nightmare," Malfoy says snidely, but we both ignore him.

"You're not dreaming," I tell Hermione, pulling her closer. "I've come to take you out of here."

"Ron, my ring," Hermione whispers. "She took my ring."

"I've got it here," I tell her, pulling it out of my pocket. "Give me your hand." I slip it onto her finger, and Hermione smiles faintly up at me. I lean down to kiss her.

"Come on, can't you?" Malfoy says, sounding a bit frantic. "You can snog later."

I ignore him, still looking down at Hermione. "Are you all right?" I ask her. "Can you stand?"

Hermione shakes her head. "My ankle," she whispers. "I think it's broken."

I can handle dittany, but broken bones are beyond me. I don't want to do a Lockhart on her, do I? "Put your arms around my neck," I say. She does, and I manage to get to my feet without dropping her. Malfoy watches me, smirking.

"If you think it's funny you can bloody well stay here," I say to him.

"Sorry," Malfoy says quickly. "No, I don't want to stay here. Take me with you - please?"

"Take him," Hermione murmurs in my ear.

"Only for you," I tell her. I look reluctantly at Malfoy. "Grab hold of my shoulder."

"Why're we still here?" Malfoy asks, looking around at the outside of the Shack. "Hadn't we better get further away? And who's _that_? Is he one of them?"

"This is Aloysius," I say. "He helped me find you."

"Hi, Hermione," Dennis says eagerly. "Ron was awfully clever, wasn't he? I'm glad he rescued _you._" He glances pointedly at Malfoy, who looks blank. I doubt if he'd recognize Dennis even in his natural state.

"Take my other shoulder, Aloysius," I say. Turning into the bloody Knight Bus, aren't I? I need to get Hermione out of here right away. Without taking time to think about it, I Apparate to the Hog's Head.

**Draco**

Weasley sends the kid in first - Aloysius; what a name - to see if it's all right. The kid waves to us from the doorway, and Weasley hurries in, still carrying Granger. I follow reluctantly. I heard somewhere that the old bloke that owns this place is Dumbledore's brother. Not going to be awfully pleased to see me, is he?

Oh, bloody hell - is that Potter? And Ginny Weasley - the gang's all here. Great - let's see if we can fit every one of my enemies into one room and see what happens.

No one's noticed me yet - Potter and his girlfriend are too busy hanging all over Granger, and the old bloke's bustling around getting everyone drinks. Well, good - I could definitely use one of those.

"Just tea for me, please, Ab," Granger's saying. "I'm not sure that Sleeping Charm's entirely worn off." She peers over Weasley's shoulder at me. "Are you all right, Malfoy? You look a bit pale."

The others all whip round to stare at me. _"Malfoy!"_ the old bloke repeats, taking a few steps in my direction. He points his wand at me threateningly. "Get out - I'll have no Death Eaters in here!"

I'm not about to argue - after all, he's got a wand and I don't - but Potter's voice stops me before I reach the door. "It's all right, Ab," he says. "He's not with the Death Eaters. He's on our side now." His eyes catch and hold mine. "Aren't you, Draco?" he says quietly.

I look back at him steadily. "Yeah," I say. "I'm on your side." I think I might even be telling the truth.

**Harry**

"Now that's sorted," I say, "what happened to you, Hermione? Was it Miranda? And how did Malfoy wind up with you two?"

"She's not Miranda," Malfoy interrupts. "She's Talitha."

"Miranda's Talitha?" I repeat, stunned. I look at Hermione, who nods weakly.

"Maybe we'd better not stay in here," Malfoy says, looking over his shoulder at the door.

Good point. And now that the windows are clean, anyone could look in and see us. "All right if we go upstairs to your sitting room?" I ask Ab, who nods.

"It's this way," Ginny says to Malfoy, who's still looking a bit dazed. "And put Hermione down, Ron! She can walk, can't she?"

"Actually, I can't," Hermione says. "Something's wrong with my ankle."

"We need to get someone to look at that," Ron says worriedly. "Maybe one of us could go to Hogwarts and fetch Madam Pomphrey." He looks hopefully at Ginny.

"No need for that," Ab puts in, coming over. "Let go of her, boy, so I can have a look." He peers down at Hermione's ankle. "I don't think it's broken," he reports. "Just a bad sprain. I can fix that, all right." He pulls out his wand, muttering something.

Hermione flexes the ankle experimentally. "It feels better," she says, looking relieved. "Thanks, Ab."

"Never mind, never mind!" Ab says, waving her off. "Just get upstairs before you're seen."

"Can you walk on it all right, Hermione?" Ginny asks pointedly. Ron ignores her and starts up the stairs, still carrying Hermione. I know exactly how he feels. I settle for taking a firm grasp of Ginny's hand as we follow them up the stairs.

"There's one thing I don't understand," I say, after Hermione and Malfoy have both told their stories. "I thought maybe Miranda was acting under the Imperius Curse, but if she's really Talitha, she's been masterminding this whole thing. How does someone turn from being a victim of the Death Eaters to leading them?"

Hermione frowns. "What do you mean by 'victim'?" she asks.

"Her whole family was killed off a few years ago," I explain. "Robards didn't tell me the whole story, but he said she was the only survivor and that she was lucky to escape with her life."

"Maybe she didn't," Hermione says.

We all stare at her. "Because maybe she's not Miranda," Hermione explains. "Maybe Miranda - the _real_ Miranda - was killed along with her family, and then Talitha stole her identity."

We're all silent for a minute, putting the pieces together. Malfoy speaks first. "Do you know," he says, sounding almost surprised. "That's actually very clever. You might be right."

"Course she's right," Ron says immediately. "Only how's she been doing it? It's been years, hasn't it? I mean, how long can you possibly go on taking Polyjuice Potion - especially if the other person's dead? Wouldn't you be dead, too?"

That one stops us cold. Even Hermione looks blank. "I don't know for sure," Ab says finally. "It'd take my brother for that. But it seems to me the boy's right. If you turn yourself into a dead person, you'd be dead yourself."

"Well, then it's not Polyjuice," Ginny says briskly. "She must be doing it some other way. Or maybe she's not doing anything. Does anyone know what the real Miranda Brooks looked like?"

"It would help if we knew how old she is," Ron says. "Maybe Bill, or - "

"Professor Sprout!" Hermione interrupts. "Miranda said she was in Hufflepuff at school."

"She might've made that up, too," I say dubiously, but it's worth a try. I get to my feet. "Right," I say. "I'm going to see Professor Sprout. Who's coming with me?" 

**Hermione**

"I think I ought to talk to Professor Sprout," I say at once. "After all, I'm the one who knows Miranda the best."

"Not as well as you thought, obviously," Malfoy puts in.

I ignore him. "You two need to get back to the Ministry before you're missed," I say to Harry and Ron. "And - "

"Bloody hell, I forgot about Perdita!" Ron interrupts, hurrying out into the hallway. The look he gives me says he's not about to let me go _anywhere_ without him.

"Right," Harry says to me. "You go and see Professor Sprout, then - only mind you don't leave the castle. Miranda's not going to be pleased when she finds out you're gone. And Ginny…" He hesitates. "Maybe you'd better come with me. I want you to tell Robards about those people following you. Maybe then he'll believe me about Xanthia - she was obviously setting you up."

Ron comes back and sits down next to me, slipping a possessive arm around my shoulders. "I don't think you ought to go to Hogwarts on your own," he tells me, just as I'd predicted.

"Ron, I'm perfectly capable - " I start.

"You don't have a wand," Ron points out.

Oh. Right. "Well, come with me, then," I say with a sigh, but I'm secretly relieved.

"You'd better wash your face first," Malfoy says, smirking at me. "Even Sprout might notice there's something wrong - or not. Her own face is usually dirty."

My hands fly to my face. "You don't look that bad," Ron says, glaring at Malfoy. "You're just a bit dusty, that's all."

_Dusty?_ I look at Ab. "Is there someplace I could wash up?"

"First door on your left," Ab says, nodding in the direction of the hallway.

Malfoy was right, I discover when I look in the mirror. I splash water on my face and run my damp hands over my hair in an attempt to smooth it. Well, it'll have to do. Considering I've spent the last several hours trapped in a cellar, I don't look as bad as all that. Harry's words come back to me suddenly as I brush ineffectually at the dirt on my robes. _"Miranda's not going to be pleased when she finds out you're gone."_ No, she's not, is she?

I open the door to find Ron waiting for me in the hallway. "Ab's got some extra wands," he says. "He went around picking them up after the Battle of Hogwarts - said he thought they might come in handy."

"Well, they have, I suppose," I say absently. Any wand will help, although I'd rather have my own back. "Stay out here for a minute, all right? I want to talk to you."

Ron promptly draws me back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind us. "I want to talk to you, too," he says, pulling me into his arms. It's obvious talking isn't exactly what he's got in mind.

"Seriously," I say, leaning back so I can see his face. "What do you think Miranda's going to do when she goes back down in that cellar and finds us gone?"

"Go after you, probably," Ron answers. "Only she's not going to find you."

"When she realizes we're gone, she'll expect me to have gone straight to the Aurors," I say. "Her cover's going to be blown."

"So?" Ron says, not getting it. "She wasn't exactly trying to hide it anymore, was she? Even Sikes recognized her handwriting in that note she sent with your ring."

"But we know she's Talitha," I say. "And we know Evelinda Snodgrass is involved - and that Rodolphus Lestrange is alive."

"We knew that before," Ron argues. "Well, not the Talitha bit, although I don't know what difference it makes what her name is."

"They didn't know we knew," I explain. "But Rodolphus knows Malfoy did - and now Malfoy's with us."

"Are you worried about _Malfoy_?" Ron asks incredulously. "He'll be all right - he can hide out with Ab and Dennis or something."

I have a feeling this is the last place Malfoy ought to stay, but there's no point in getting into it now. "We have to stop her," I say. "She's the one running all of this, I think."

"We'll get her," Ron says confidently.

"I have a plan," I offer.

Ron grins at me. "Course you do," he says. "Don't you always? Let's hear it, then."

I take a deep breath. This is going to be the hard part. "Well," I say. "There's only one thing to do. Malfoy and I have to go back down into that cellar and then ambush her when she comes back."

**Ron**

"Absolutely not," I say firmly.

"Ron," Hermione starts, but I cut her off before she can get going.

"Forget it," I tell her. "This is twice now I've almost lost you, Hermione, and I'm not risking a third time. You're not leaving my side till all this is over."

"But it's the only chance we have of catching her off guard," Hermione argues. "Once she finds we're gone, it'll be too late. She'll go into hiding and we'll never find her - and in a year or two this whole nightmare will start up again." She raises her eyes to mine pleadingly. "I just want it to be _over_," she says simply. "I want us to get married and live like normal people."

Well, so do I, but I still don't like this idea. "It's a good plan," I admit. "Only you're not going to be the one to do it. I'll go down there with Malfoy - or maybe Harry and I should do it. I'd sooner have him than Malfoy."

Hermione rolls her eyes at me. "Unless you're both planning to take Polyjuice Potion, that's not going to work," she points out. "And since it takes months to brew, and I doubt very much if Ab serves it in the pub, that's not an option. We need to move fast if this is going to work."

There are other places we could get Polyjuice - Slughorn might have some, or Harry could go back to the Auror Department for it - but she's right about one thing. We're running out of time.

Hermione's still watching me. "It's the only way," she says softly.

"Fine," I say, surprising her. "I'll go along with your plan - on one condition."

Hermione's eyes narrow. "What?" she demands suspiciously.

I pull her close against me. "I'm going down there with you," I say.

**Harry**

Ron lasts all of about thirty seconds before going in search of Hermione. "Pathetic," Ginny whispers.

"Ah, give him a break," Malfoy says unexpectedly. "That Talitha woman would've killed both of us." He looks as astonished as the rest of us to hear this come out of his mouth. "They want that thing," he adds quickly, in an effort to cover his slip. "That thing I lost - whatever it is. Rodolphus said so."

"Go over that bit again," I say, leaning forward. "We need to figure out what this next step is that they were talking about."

"I think it was us," Malfoy says. "Me and Granger." He slices a finger across his throat.

I don't think so - I think it has something to do with the mysterious missing object. "Tell me anyway," I ask, and he sighs and does. It doesn't make much more sense the second time around, but I still feel as though I'm right.

"What I don't understand," Ab says abruptly, "is how that house-elf knew where you two were."

"She wouldn't tell us," Dennis answers. "All she said was that she was a bad elf for telling, but that Miss - that's Hermione - was good and she had to help her."

Ab looks furious. "They planted her in here to spy for them," he snaps. "I _knew_ I didn't need a damned house-elf!"

I'm afraid he's probably right. I hope poor Winky doesn't get found out - they'll likely kill her.

"If she comes back, you won't turn her away, will you?" Ginny asks anxiously.

Ab glares. He opens his mouth to speak, but Hermione and Ron are coming back in, so he closes it again. Even Ab knows better than to threaten a house-elf in front of Hermione.

"New plan," Ron says briefly. His eyes meet mine for a second. Whatever this plan is, he doesn't like it. "Hermione thought it up, so I'll let her explain."

I don't like it much better than Ron does, but I have to admit, it could work. "I don't know," I say slowly. "I'd feel better if you and I were both going down there with Hermione."

"You can't," Hermione says, exasperated. "It's bad enough I've got to take Ron. Anyway, we shouldn't all be in one place. What if something goes wrong?"

"Someone's got to talk to Professor Sprout," Ron offers. "You can take Ginny with you."

Talking to Professor Sprout seems pretty tame compared to ambushing Talitha. "If I can't be in the cellar with you, I think I ought to be hiding somewhere nearby," I object. "If something _does_ go wrong, we'll need a backup plan."

"The passage under the Whomping Willow!" Ginny says at once. "Only we'll have to go in through Hogwarts."

I eye her. _"We?"_

"You shouldn't do this on your own," Ginny says, managing to look innocent. "Don't the Aurors tell you to always take a partner?"

"Yes," I say. "But you're not an Auror."

"Neither's Hermione," Ginny says. "Or Malfoy."

"You," I say firmly, "can stay at the castle and talk to Sprout. I'll go down the passage." I can tell from Ginny's expression that this conversation definitely isn't over, but she's mercifully decided to let it go for now. I turn back to Hermione, Ron, and Malfoy. "We'd better go over it a few times," I suggest. "We can't afford any mistakes."

They practice their moves several times, with an over-eager Dennis acting the part of Talitha. Malfoy hangs back, looking unsure of himself.

"If you're not going to be any more help than that, you might as well stay here," Ron says, irritated. "If you just stand there like that, she'll Stun you."

"You lot obviously don't trust me anyway," Malfoy bursts out. "What difference does it make?"

The rest of us exchange uneasy glances. We _don't_ trust him, but I hadn't thought we were being quite so obvious about it.

"Well, Rodolphus Lestrange _is_ your uncle," Ginny says, speaking for all of us. "Are you really on our side - or are you just hiding behind us so Talitha won't get you?"

Malfoy's face turns red. "My _Uncle_ Rodolphus killed my girlfriend," he says sharply. "He meant to get me, but he got her instead. He's not even sorry for it, because she was a blood traitor. Do you really think I'd join up with them after that?" He turns away, facing the wall.

Amazingly, it's Dennis who goes to his side. "Course we don't," he says soothingly. "They killed my brother, and that's how I feel, too." He pats Malfoy awkwardly on the shoulder.

"Okay," I say. "It's all right, Malfoy. I know how you felt about Clarissa."

"Let's try it again," Ron says quickly. "Hermione, you pretend to be asleep on that mattress - I guess it was a waste of time washing your face, wasn't it? - and Malfoy, you go over there by the wall. Dennis, you're Miranda - I mean Talitha. And try not to bounce so much this time, okay? Talitha's not the bouncy sort."

They run through it again, and this time it's perfect.

"We need wands," Hermione reminds us.

Ab nods and goes to a desk in the corner. "Like I said, I picked up a few loose ones after the Battle," he says, opening a drawer.

"A few?" Ginny whispers to me irrepressibly. "There's at least a dozen in there!"

Hermione and Malfoy start pulling wands out and waving them around. Ron wanders over to me.

"I sent a Patronus to Perdita telling her I was all right," he says. "I didn't dare say anything else - I don't know who might have been with her."

"I'm surprised you didn't get one back," I remark. "She must be ready to strangle you."

Ron grins. "I told her it wasn't safe to answer," he admits. "What about you - hadn't you better get in touch with Robards?"

"Probably," I say, grinning back. "Only I was thinking - we might as well wait till we've got something concrete to tell them."

"Well, exactly," Ron says, looking relieved. He glances at his watch. "We'd better go, hadn't we? She could be coming back any second."

"Give me a few minutes start," I answer, heading toward the mantel and Ariana's portrait. I pull the Invisibility Cloak out of my pocket and toss it to Ron. "Here - you'd better take this."

Ron hesitates. "What about you?" he asks. "You've got to get out of the school and across the lawn."

"It's getting dark, and I can do a Disillusionment Charm," I say. "Anyway, the worst thing that'll happen to me is that I might get stuck having tea with Slughorn. You, on the other hand…"

"Right," Ron says hastily, unfolding the Cloak.

I step carefully onto the mantel and through the frame, pulling Ginny up behind me. "We'll see you in a bit," she says encouragingly to the others.

I look at Ron and Hermione for a second. I can think of a million pieces of advice I want to give them, but they already know. Either it's going to work or it's not. "Be careful," I say lamely. "Send me a Patronus if - well, maybe you'd better not."

"It's a shame they're so noticeable, isn't it?" Hermione says. "I wish wizards could use mobiles."

Everyone else except for Dennis looks blank, but I nod. I don't miss most Muggle technology, but it'd be nice to have a way of keeping in touch without it being obvious.

"I thought you were supposed to be the clever one!" Ab says to Hermione. "What's wrong with using those mirrors?"

"There's only the one," I point out. "All I had left of the other was a little piece of glass."

Ab stumps back over to the desk. "Wait," he says, jabbing a finger in my direction.

I wait, resting one foot on the edge of the frame. Ginny shifts uneasily next to me, and I know she's worried about how late it's getting.

I'm half-expecting Ab to pull out yet another mirror, but when he turns back, he's only carrying the one. He sets it carefully on the mantel and draws his wand down the center in a straight line, muttering something. "Here," he says, handing one half to me. "I'm not sure if this'll work, but it's worth a try." He hands the other half to Ron. "You, lad - go out in the hallway and try it!"

Ginny looks at me and shrugs. "Call him," she suggests.

I look down at the mirror in my hand. "Ron?" I say into it tentatively.

Ron's face appears at once in the glass. "Harry, it works!" he says, looking astonished. "I'll keep this one - and you'd better get going. I'll give you five minutes head start."

The last thing I hear as Ginny and I hurry down the passage is Ab saying sardonically "You'd think with two _Aurors_ in the room, one of you would have come up with this."

Ron's reply - if there is one - is inaudible.

**Draco**

If you ask me, this entire plan is completely insane. I mean, _we got away_. What kind of idiot would go back? And the hell with Talitha or Miranda or whatever her name is. Let the Aurors catch her - that's what they're paid to do, isn't it? Only there's no arguing with this lot. Either you go along with their crazy ideas or you're a traitor - there's no middle ground.

I have to admit, though - if it works, it's brilliant. Not that I'd ever say so to Granger.

Weasley takes charge, throwing the Invisibility Cloak over the three of us. It's a weird sensation.

"Ron, I can see your feet," that Aloysius kid says, and I have to turn away so they won't see me smirking. There's no hiding those battleships of Weasley's, even with an Invisibility Cloak.

"It'll be all right," Weasley says, but I notice he hunches down a bit to bring himself closer to our height. "Malfoy, put your hand on my arm - I'm going to take us." He and Granger are already holding hands.

I don't like Side-Along Apparition. "I've got a wand now," I say. "I can go by myself."

"No," Weasley says between his teeth. "You can't." Granger reaches out and grabs my arm, and before I can react, we're going.

We end up in the woods just behind the Shack. "No lights," Granger whispers, nodding at it. "I don't think anyone's come back yet."

Either that, or they've been and gone, but I don't bother saying so. Moving silently under the Cloak, we make our way to the door of the Shack. Granger does something to it with her wand before pushing it carefully open, and it takes me a minute to realize it was a Silencing Charm so it wouldn't creak. Good idea, even if it was Granger's.

The Shack appears to be empty, but there's no way to tell for sure in the dark. The trap door is still open, just the way Weasley left it.

"I'll go down first," he whispers, slipping out from under the Cloak and starting toward the edge.

"Ron, no!" Granger whispers. "Not without the Cloak! What if someone's down there?"

"What if someone's _up here_?" I protest, but they both ignore me. Weasley - and the Cloak - drop silently into the cellar.

"It's okay," he whispers, a few minutes later. "Come on, Hermione - I'll lift you down."

Granger lowers herself over the side, and I follow - reluctantly. Weasley hasn't bothered to wait around to help me, I notice. I land on my knees again, realizing too late that I could have Apparated and saved myself the trouble.

Granger's already on the mattress, and Weasley's bending over her. Snogging again, probably - don't they ever give it a rest? It must be bloody boring for Potter, living with the pair of them. I flick my wand at the trap door to shut it and make my way across the room.

Weasley finally tears himself away from Granger and takes up a position against the far wall. I see him start to pull the Cloak over his head, and then he disappears from view. "We're here," he whispers. "Place is empty - so far."

For a minute I can't think who the hell he's talking to, and then I realize he must have that mirror. Rather clever, those, aren't they? I could've made good use of those when I was at school. I edge a bit closer to Weasley so I can hear what they're saying.

There's a creaking noise from upstairs, and then the sound of footsteps. I freeze, halfway across the room. "She's here," Weasley whispers into the mirror, and then he's quiet.

The three of us wait tensely, scarcely daring to breathe as the footsteps come closer to the trap door.

**Ron**

It sounds like more than one person. That's going to make things difficult - we'd been counting on Talitha coming back on her own. I can just catch the sound of voices, but I can't hear what they're saying.

Malfoy hurries over to the wall and presses his ear against a pipe. Hermione half-sits up, looking undecided. "Stay there," I whisper, hurrying over to join Malfoy. If whoever it is decides to Apparate down here in a hurry, she won't have time to get back to the mattress. I nudge Malfoy out of my way and put my own ear to the pipe. He looks up, briefly startled, and then leans in again.

"… only let me talk to him, Talitha," a man's voice says. I think it's Rodolphus, but I can't be sure.

"You've talked enough," a woman answers. It sounds like Miranda - I think - but not like any way I've ever heard her talk before. "It's time to try my methods. I intend to find out what he's done with it."

"Someone's taken it," the man insists.

"Who?" Miranda demands. "Do you know what I think, Rodolphus? I think he's given it to Potter."

"Potter!" Rodolphus sounds startled. "Surely not."

"He's been seen talking to him on several occasions," Miranda says.

"No," Rodolphus says. "He wouldn't - he's one of us, Talitha. In any case, the object he gave me in place of it has a very personal history. There's no way Potter would know enough to make that particular substitution."

_No, it was just dumb luck on our part,_ I think. "What object?" Miranda's asking curiously. "What did he give you?"

"It isn't important," Rodolphus says hastily. "A small item of sentimental value. The point is, it wasn't something Potter could have known about. Someone else was responsible for the replacement."

I wonder why he doesn't want her to know about the coin? Miranda's speaking again. "Well, you'd best figure out who it was," she says briskly. "I'm still not entirely convinced Potter didn't have something to do with it. Maybe you'd better question the Granger girl after we finish with your nephew."

If he so much as raises his wand to Hermione, I'll kill him. "We have to be careful with her," Rodolphus is saying. "We still need her, you know. The Arithmancy - "

"It's not my fault I never had a chance to study it!" Miranda snaps. "Bloody Flint said he knew all about it."

"He did get us the Time-Turners," Rodolphus says.

"Yes, but what good are they unless we can get our hands on it?" Miranda says. "We're wasting time, Rodolphus. Let's see what your nephew has to say for himself."

"Give me five minutes alone with Draco first," Rodolphus says. "I'll know if he's lying."

"Five minutes, then," Miranda says, sounding exasperated.

Malfoy and I spring back to our respective corners. "He's coming," I whisper to Hermione, and she quickly lies down again.

Arithmancy? Time-Turners? And they need the whatever-it-is to make it all work. Maybe Hermione'll be able to make some sense of it - damned if I can.

**Hermione**

"Draco!" a harsh voice whispers. "Draco, can you hear me?" It's not a woman's voice.

"That you, Rodolphus?" Malfoy says. I know he's terrified, but I can't detect any emotion in his voice besides intense irritation. "I hope you've come to get me out of this bloody place. That witch from the House-Elf Office seems to have gone mad."

There's a sharp crack and I feel someone land only a few feet away from me. "What makes you say that?" Rodolphus asks, sounding uneasy.

"Because she took my wand and left me down here to guard _that,_" Malfoy says. Meaning me, I suppose. "Like she needs guarding - and what'd she take my wand for?"

I open my eyes just a crack to see; then hastily shut them again as Lestrange comes closer and peers down at me. It takes everything I have to remain motionless. "Is that her?" he asks. "The Mudblood?"

"Yeah," Malfoy says carelessly. "She's under some sort of charm - she hasn't moved in hours."

"Never mind her just now," Lestrange says abruptly. "Draco, I've come to give you one last chance. You must tell me the truth. What did you do with the item that was in the envelope?"

"I _did_ tell you the truth," Malfoy protests. "That coin was all there was."

"Draco, I am trying to save your life," Lestrange says sternly. "I shall ask you one more time to tell me the truth."

"Okay," Malfoy says, sounding frightened. _Oh, please don't let him betray us now…_

"You gave me the envelope that night," Malfoy begins. "I didn't look inside - I was going to wait till I was back in my room - but I had it in my hand and I heard someone coming, so I just sort of panicked and hid it."

"Yes?" Rodolphus says. "Where?"

"Inside some book that was lying on a table outside the library," Malfoy says. "When I went back later to get it, I opened it - and the only thing inside was the coin."

_Well done, Draco,_ I say silently. Now if only Rodolphus believes him…

"Who else was at Hogwarts that night?" Rodolphus demands.

Malfoy snorts. "About a hundred people," he says. "Not just kids, either - some of them were from the Ministry."

Rodolphus groans.

"What were you doing there?" Miranda's voice says sharply from above us. She must be leaning in through the trap door.

"Huh?" Malfoy says.

"When you hid the envelope," Miranda says, clearly straining to be patient. "What were you doing outside the library?"

"Oh, that," Malfoy says. "I was spying on Weasley and Granger." _Oh, please don't let him just have said that._ "But it didn't matter," he adds hastily, clearly realizing his mistake. "They didn't see me do it."

"Hmm," Miranda says. "Rodolphus, I think it's time we woke our other guest. Perhaps Hermione Granger can enlighten us on that point."

"What're you going to do?" Malfoy asks uneasily.

"Ask her a few questions, that's all," Rodolphus says. "Of course, if she proves uncooperative, stronger measures may be called for."

"If you're talking about the Cruciatus Curse, it won't work on her," Malfoy says, managing to sound grudgingly admiring. "I've seen it before - she won't say a word, no matter what you do to her."

"Really?" Rodolphus says skeptically. "Well, naturally, if an _amateur_ was doing the questioning - "

"Your wife was doing it," Malfoy interrupts. "Would you call _her_ an amateur?"

"Of course not," Rodolphus says after a minute. "However, dear Bellatrix may have been losing some of her skills near the end. She did, after all, allow herself to be defeated by a _housewife_. In any case, I've nothing to lose by trying." His voice grows louder as he strides back over to me. I can feel him standing over me again. _"Ennervate!"_ he commands.

Suddenly something lands on top of me, pinning me to the mattress. "Rodolphus?" Miranda calls sharply from upstairs. "Rodolphus, what's going on?"

I open my eyes to see Malfoy dragging Lestrange's body off me. Someone grasps me from behind, pulling me to my feet. "Are you all right?" Ron whispers in my ear.

I nod. "Miranda," I whisper back. "Don't let her get away!"

"Too late," Malfoy says, peering up through the open trap door. "I just heard her Disapparate."

**Harry**

"You were going to talk to Sprout," I say to Ginny. "Remember?"

"There's no point in me going alone," Ginny says calmly, not moving. "I won't know the proper questions to ask her. I think I'd better come with you, and then we can go find her together."

I want to argue, but there's no time to lose. "You can come as far as the Willow," I compromise. "You can keep watch for me. But I'm going in alone. Got it?"

Ginny nods and slips her hand into mine. "We'd better run," she says. "Ron said five minutes."

We're out of breath by the time we reach the Willow. "We're here," Ron's voice says from the mirror. "Place is empty - so far."

I use his trick to freeze the branches, and turn for one last look at Ginny. She blows me a kiss and takes up a position just beyond the tree. "Right," I say to Ron. "I'm on my way down the passage."

"She's here," Ron whispers in return, and the mirror goes dark.

Damn it. I crawl through the passage as quickly as I can, but I'm already afraid I'm going to be too late.

There's a faint light coming from the Shack as I near the entrance. Wand light? Just as I bend my head to the opening, I hear the sharp crack of someone Disapparating. Ron? Or Talitha? The room's dark again.

"Harry?" Ron's voice whispers urgently. It takes me a second to realize the sound's coming from my pocket. I pull the mirror out, nearly slicing my hand on the sharp edge in my haste.

"Ron? What's happened? Are you all right?" I demand.

"We're fine," Ron says. "And we've got Rodolphus. But Miranda got away."

That must be who I heard Disapparating. "I'm coming in," I say.

Ron, Hermione and Malfoy are standing around a huddled figure on the ground when I arrive. "So that's Rodolphus Lestrange," I say, leaning in to get a closer look at him. "I never saw him properly before."

"He's no beauty," Ron says briefly. Even in the faint glow from my wand I can see he looks white and strained.

"What happened?" I ask. "How did Talitha get away?"

"It was my fault," Ron says hoarsely. "He came after Hermione - he was going to question her with the Cruciatus Curse - and I just - just-"

"Stunned him so hard he still hasn't come round," Malfoy finishes for him. "It was absolutely brilliant - well, considering it was _you_ who did it, Weasley."

Ron appears not to hear this. "I couldn't let him do it, Harry," he says. "Not after - not after the last time."

"Of course you couldn't," I say, even though part of me wishes he'd thought to Stun Talitha at the same time.

Hermione's been quiet, but now she lifts her head from Ron's shoulder to say, "We'd better tie him up, hadn't we? He's starting to twitch again."

"I'll do it," Malfoy offers, flicking his wand at Rodolphus. "That was one charm I learned pretty well from watching them last year."

"Nice one," I say, watching as silver ropes instantly bind Rodolphus from head to toe. "What'll we do with him?"

"Don't you think it's time you got Gawain Robards involved in this?" Hermione asks. "I think we'd better take him back to the Ministry."

I consider. Hermione's probably right, but I'm not sure about the Ministry. "I'll check with Perdita," Ron offers, pulling out his wand.

"What the hell was _that,_ Weasley?" Malfoy asks, watching the silvery shape disappear.

Ron ignores him. A few seconds later, a silver duck appears, quacking angrily. "It's about time you got in touch," it snaps in Perdita's voice. "I hope you've got a bloody good excuse for all this. And of course it's safe at the Ministry - why the hell wouldn't it be? - so you'd better get yourself back to Gawain's office this instant!"

"Lovely girl, isn't she?" Malfoy remarks, wincing. "I think I'd prefer to stay here. The rest of you can go to the Ministry."

I can't go yet - Ginny's still waiting for me by the Willow. "Ron, you and Hermione bring Lestrange in," I say. I grin at him. "It'll take Perdita's mind off killing you when she sees him. Ginny and I will go talk to Professor Sprout. Malfoy - " I hesitate.

"Better bring him with you," Ron advises. "Miranda - Talitha, I mean - knows he was down here with Hermione. She's going to think he's the one who Stunned Rodolphus. They'll all be after him now."

Malfoy looks petrified. It's obvious he hadn't thought of that yet. "Come on," I say to him. "We'll have to go through the passage - we can't Apparate into Hogwarts." I turn back to Ron and Hermione. "Keep in touch," I say, patting the pocket that holds my mirror. "We'll be along once we've talked to Sprout."

"What about me?" Malfoy demands.

"We'll sort that out," I say vaguely. I have a half-formed idea of hiding him somewhere at Hogwarts, but even now I'm not sure if I trust him not to escape.

"Let's get this over with," Ron says to Hermione.

She slips her arm around his waist. "It'll be all right," she says comfortingly, but she doesn't look as though she entirely believes it.

Ron hands the Invisibility Cloak to me and reaches down to take a firm grasp of Lestrange. A second later, the three of them have vanished.

"Come on," I say to Malfoy again. He looks reluctant, but follows me up through the trap door and into the passage. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Harry**

Ginny throws her arms around me when she sees me. "Did you get her?" she asks anxiously.

"No," I say. "But we got Lestrange. Ron and Hermione are bringing him in now."

"Lestrange?" Ginny repeats, looking confused. "And where's Malfoy?"

"Right there," I say, pointing to the figure struggling out from under the tree. Malfoy joins us without a word.

"We'll tell you the whole story on the way up to the castle," I say to Ginny, unfolding the Cloak. "Come on, Malfoy."

The grounds are dark and quiet, but all the same I do a _Muffliato_ Charm before I speak again. "I missed the whole thing," I say. "So, Malfoy, why don't you fill us in?"

"Talitha showed up at the same time as my uncle," Malfoy begins, stumbling over something in the dark. "Have we really all got to stay under this thing? It's bloody impossible to walk."

"Don't be a prat," Ginny says briskly. "Go on, what happened after they got there?"

Malfoy sighs, sounding annoyed, but continues the story. Ginny and I listen in silence. "Oh, and Rodolphus said something about needing to keep Granger alive because she knows Arithmancy," he remembers at the end. "And there was something about Flint getting them Time-Turners, but Talitha said they wouldn't do any good without the whatever-it-is."

Ginny turns a mystified face to me, and I shrug. "No idea," I admit. "Maybe Hermione can figure it out."

"Or maybe your Aurors can get it out of Rodolphus," Malfoy says. "I don't think he'd stand up to the Cruciatus Curse very well himself."

"Aurors don't use those methods," I say.

"They don't?" Malfoy sounds astonished. I'd like to say more, but we're nearly at the castle.

I stop several feet from the front door. I wish we hadn't got Malfoy with us. Sprout's bound to think it's really odd that he's with us. Only I don't like to leave him on his own unprotected - and I'm not quite sure I trust him not to run away.

"I know!" Ginny whispers in my ear. "Hagrid!"

"Perfect," I say, wheeling around.

"No," Malfoy protests, digging in his heels when he spots Hagrid's cabin. "I'm not going in there. That bloody great oaf will flatten me."

"_I'll_ flatten you if you keep calling him names like that!" Ginny says sharply. She gives Malfoy a jab with her elbow. "Hagrid won't hurt you - he's much too kind-hearted. And you'll be safe there."

It takes a bit of fast talking, but Malfoy and Hagrid both finally agree. "He can help me tend the flobberworms," Hagrid says, winking at me and Ginny. "Yeh'll like that, won't yeh, Malfoy?"

Ginny and I hurry away before Malfoy can change his mind. "Dinner ought to be about over," Ginny says, looking at her watch. "But I think we can probably find Professor Sprout in one of the greenhouses."

Professor Sprout, as predicted, is in Greenhouse Three. "Harry, my dear boy!" she says, dropping her trowel and hurrying over to us. "And Ginny! Have you two come for a visit?"

"Not exactly," I say, pulling Ginny out of range of a plant that looks like it's got teeth. "I'm here on Auror business, actually. I was hoping you could help me with something."

Sprout looks flustered. "Auror business!" she repeats. "Well, I'll try, of course, but - unless it's got something to do with Herbology?" She peers at me hopefully.

"No," I say. "But it has got something to do with another subject you know pretty well - Hufflepuff House."

"Professor Sprout, do you remember a girl called Miranda Brooks?" Ginny puts in. "She'd have been a few years ahead of us."

"Of course I remember Miranda!" Professor Sprout says at once. "That poor, sweet girl! She never came back to Hogwarts afterwards, you know. Oh, it was a shame about her family - you know about her family?"

Ginny and I both nod. "Such a lovely girl," Sprout continues. "Not terribly clever, perhaps - I'm not sure she would have managed any NEWTs, except possibly in Care of Magical Creatures, but she had such a kind heart - everyone in Hufflepuff House was so fond of her."

Ginny and I exchange glances. That definitely doesn't sound like the Miranda Brooks who practically ran a Ministry Department single-handedly, does it? And kind-hearted…

"Professor, you haven't got a picture of her by any chance, have you?" I ask hopefully.

Sprout frowns thoughtfully. "Not in here," she says, looking around the greenhouse as though portraits are suddenly going to materialize on the walls. "But possibly back at the castle… somewhere there's a book that has class pictures from every year."

"There is?" Ginny asks, surprised. "I don't remember anyone taking a picture of my class."

"Well, no," Sprout says apologetically. "We stopped several years ago. We usually took them on the last day of school, and I'm afraid that when _your_ class came along, Harry…"

"There were a few other things going on, yeah," I say, grinning at her. I'm not surprised nobody thought of class pictures when they were all still trying to absorb the idea that Voldemort had been attached to Quirrell's head for most of the year.

"But as Miranda was several years ahead of you, I'm sure there would have been pictures of her class," Sprout continues briskly. "Come along, both of you, and we'll see if we can't track them down!"

Ginny and I follow her up the steps into the castle. I'm wondering what I'm going to say if we meet anyone else, but luckily Sprout's taking us straight into the Trophy Room.

"Here we are!" she says, opening a cupboard I'd never noticed before. "Let me see…1920-29, 1950-59…ah, here we are!" She pulls an enormous, velvet-covered book out and flips through the pages. "Here we are," she says again. "These are the fifth year Hufflepuffs in Miranda's last year at Hogwarts."

Ginny and I both bend over the page eagerly, but none of the faces look familiar. "Which one is she?" I ask finally.

"This one, in the middle," Professor Sprout says.

I lean closer, lighting my wand to get a better look. "Would you mind?" I ask the picture, feeling a bit foolish. The two Hufflepuffs on either side considerately move away so Miranda can step forward, but it's still hard to see her face clearly.

"Is it her?" Ginny whispers.

"I'm not sure," I admit. "There's a bit of a resemblance, but it doesn't seem like the Miranda I know."

Professor Sprout looks puzzled. "You know her?"

"It's a long story," I say. "But I think someone else has been posing at her. The witch I know as Miranda Brooks - well, it's definitely not her." I point to the picture as I speak, and the fifth-year Miranda gives me a shy smile.

"_Posing_ as her?" Sprout repeats indignantly. "Well, of all the nerve!"

"Don't worry," Ginny says. "Harry's going to catch her. Is it all right if we take this album with us?"

"It's really not supposed to leave the castle," Sprout says. "But under the circumstances, I'm sure it'll be all right."

"Thanks," I say, tucking it under my arm. "I'll take good care of it, I promise."

"What's that you've got?" Malfoy demands suspiciously, several minutes later. It doesn't appear as though he's had much fun, although Hagrid looks rather pleased with himself.

"A photograph album," I say blandly. "Ready to go?"

**Ron**

We land in the alley next to the Ministry entrance. I let Rodolphus drop to the ground, keeping one foot planted firmly on his back.

"How are we going to get him in there?" Hermione asks, looking dubiously at Rodolphus. "The Ministry's closed for the day, but there might still be people about."

Rodolphus twitches slightly, and Hermione leans over and Stuns him neatly. "I really don't like this wand much," she says, looking at it critically. "But at least it didn't feel hostile, like some of the others."

"We'll get yours back," I say absently. I hadn't thought this far ahead, but Hermione's right. It's going to be pretty damned noticeable if we walk through the Atrium dragging a prisoner behind us - and if any of Lestrange's lot are still hanging about, they'll know we've got him. "I'd better send Perdita another message," I decide, pulling out my wand.

She arrives less than thirty seconds later. "Which part of 'you're in serious trouble' didn't you understand?" she demands. "Gawain said - Hermione! You're all right!"

"I wouldn't have come back yet if I hadn't found her," I point out, but Perdita's busy hugging Hermione. "And I've got another surprise for you - only I reckon you won't want to hug _this_ one." I give Rodolphus a good shove with my foot and he rolls out of the shadows to land at Perdita's feet. She bends down quickly, lighting her wand to see his face.

"It's not," she says disbelievingly.

"It is," I say. "Perdita, meet Rodolphus Lestrange. You'll have to excuse him for not shaking hands - he's just a little bit unconscious at the moment."

"I don't believe it," Perdita says, still staring at Rodolphus. "Is he the one who kidnapped Hermione? And how did you manage to capture him?"

"Ron Stunned him," Hermione says proudly. "Lestrange isn't the one who kidnapped me, though - that was Miranda."

"So you were right about her," Perdita says to me. "Oh, don't look so pleased with yourself - that won't get you off the hook with Gawain."

_Capturing Lestrange might, though,_ I think hopefully. "I know I should've sent you a message when I left," I say. "Only there wasn't time - and I thought you might try to stop me." I can't help thinking she needn't have told Robards on me quite so fast.

"I couldn't help Gawain finding out," Perdita says, seeming to read my mind. "We came out of the tunnel, and you weren't there. I was sure someone had gotten to you."

Oh. I should've known she wasn't the sort to rat me out. "Mind, you still should have waited for us," Perdita says sternly. "Aurors aren't supposed to abandon their posts, unless it's an emergency."

"It _was_ an emergency!" I say hotly. "And let's get one thing straight right now. If it comes to a choice between Hermione and the Aurors, I'm going to pick Hermione every time. If it comes to a choice between _anybody_ and Hermione, I'm going to pick Hermione. That's just how it is."

Hermione lifts her eyes to mine, and the look in them makes me want to take her straight home to bed. The hell with Rodolphus - we've done our part, bringing him in.

"You're lucky you said that to me instead of Gawain," Perdita says. "Look, Ron, I understand how you feel, but…" Her voice trails off as she looks from me to Hermione. "Are you two even listening to me?" she demands.

"Course we are," I lie, squeezing Hermione's hand.

Perdita sighs. "What happened to make you take off like that, anyway?" she asks.

I start to tell her, but she interrupts almost at once. "Save it till we get inside," she says. "You'll just have to repeat the whole story for Gawain anyway."

Great - I'm really looking forward to _that_. "We'd better figure out how to get him upstairs," I say, nudging Rodolphus with my foot.

"We need an Invisibility Cloak," Hermione says. "Or maybe we could roll him up in something, like a carpet. Then we could just carry him in."

A _carpet_? What Muggle storybook did she get _that_ out of? I almost laugh out loud, even though I've still got Robards waiting for me.

"That's not such a bad idea," Perdita says thoughtfully. "Maybe not a carpet, but… here, stand back, you two!" She pulls out her wand. Suddenly there's a large trunk on the ground next to her. I flick my wand at Rodolphus and drop him in - not very gently.

"Now for a Hover Charm," Perdita says, clicking the lock shut. "Here, you two lead the way and open the doors for me."

**Hermione**

"So kind of you to finally join us, Mr. Weasley," Robards says icily. "I - Miss Granger! Are you all right?"

"Perfectly safe," I say, smiling at him. "But I wouldn't have been, if it hadn't been for Ron. I think Miranda was going to kill me."

Robards looks slightly taken aback. "Suppose you start from the beginning," he says, just as Perdita pushes the door open.

"Maybe you'd better come out in the hallway for a minute, Gawain," she says, grinning at him. "This trunk isn't going to fit through your office door."

"Trunk?" Robards says, frowning, but he gets up at once. Ron and I follow.

"Ron and Hermione brought an old acquaintance of yours back with them," Perdita says, springing the trunk open with a flourish. "I'm sure you two will have plenty to talk about, once he comes round."

I never thought I'd see Gawain Robards speechless, but for once, words seem to have deserted him. He looks from me to Ron, stunned. "How…" he manages in a choked voice.

"It's rather a long story," I say. "Maybe we'd better go back in your office and sit down."

"Perdita, see that the trunk and its contents are transported to Azkaban at once," Robards orders, regaining his authority. "I intend to question this prisoner personally. First, however, I should very much like to hear this - er - _story_ of yours."

"You start," Ron whispers to me.

I take a deep breath and begin. Robards listens intently, without interrupting. "And then the charm took over again - I kept slipping in and out of consciousness," I finish. "But the next time I came round, Ron was there, and he took us away at once."

"Hmm," Robards says. "I shall wish to speak with young Malfoy as well."

"Harry's bringing him," Ron says eagerly. "I'll go and hurry him along a bit if you like. I could send a message with - "

"That will not be necessary," Robards says. The icy note is back in his voice. "I should like to hear from you now, Mr. Weasley. Supposing you tell me exactly why you felt it necessary to desert your post against express orders - and without following the established procedures."

I squeeze Ron's hand. _Please don't say what you said to Perdita outside - even though it was lovely,_ I plead silently.

"I _had_ to go right then," Ron says. "There wasn't time to wait for Perdita or send a message. I was afraid she'd run away."

"Who?" Robards demands, looking confused. "Miranda Brooks?"

Ron shakes his head. "No, Winky," he explains. "Winky the house-elf. She said I had to come to Hogsmeade to save Hermione."

Robards, if anything, looks more baffled by this. "Winky the house-elf," he repeats slowly. "That sounds oddly familiar, although I can't think why."

I open my mouth to tell him why, but he's still talking. "This Winky," he says to Ron. "She approached you herself, did she?"

"Er," Ron says, shifting uncomfortably. "Not exactly. But she was there when I got to Hogsmeade," he adds in a rush. "She took me to the Shrieking Shack - and that's where I found Hermione and Malfoy. So I brought them to the Hog's Head - you know, Aberforth Dumbledore's place - and then Hermione thought up a plan to catch Talitha - I mean Miranda - and so we did it, but we got Lestrange instead and brought him here to you."

Robards' eyes are nearly popping out of his head. "And that's all, really," Ron finishes.

Perdita slips in silently and takes a seat behind us. "Talitha?" Robards is asking.

"Malfoy and I overheard a conversation between Rodolphus Lestrange and Miranda," I explain. "He called her Talitha."

"Talitha," Robards repeats. "Are we dealing with an imposter, then?"

"We think so," I say, relieved that I don't have to explain this bit.

Robards starts quizzing me about what I overheard, but I can tell it doesn't make any more sense to him than it does to us. "Miranda was with Rodolphus when he came back the second time," I offer. "Only I couldn't hear what they said."

"It didn't make any sense," Ron says, frowning. "They were mostly talking about how they were going to torture you and Malfoy - like I was going to let _that_ happen - and Rodolphus said they had to keep Hermione alive because she's good at Arithmancy - and then he said something about Flint getting them Time-Turners, and Miranda said they wouldn't work unless they could get it back."

Robards blinks. "Get what back?" he asks, frowning.

"Dunno," Ron says. "Only they think Malfoy's got whatever it is - only he hasn't."

Robards is silent for several minutes. "I will need to question Mr. Malfoy about this," he says at last. "I should also like to speak to Winky the house-elf, and whoever approached you outside the Ministry, Mr. Weasley."

Oh dear - I was hoping he'd forgotten that bit. So was Ron, judging from his expression. "We can try calling Winky," he says evasively. "Only she might not come. She's a free elf, you know."

"And the other person?" Robards says inflexibly. "Who approached you, Mr. Weasley?"

"I can't tell you," Ron says.

Robards looks outraged. "Can't tell me?" he repeats. "Mr. Weasley, as your superior, I am _ordering_ you to tell me. And I will remind you that your insubordination today has already had a severe impact on your future here in the Auror Department."

Ron's face is white. "I can't tell you," he repeats stubbornly. "I promised I wouldn't tell."

Behind me, I hear Perdita groan. Robards takes a deep breath, and his nostrils flare dangerously. Ron's ears are getting red. I've got to do something - quickly. I stand up, swaying slightly as though I'm light-headed. "I'm sorry to interrupt," I say, "but I feel awfully dizzy all of a sudden." I lean against Ron for support, and he puts his arms around me protectively.

"No wonder," he says. "After what you've been through today."

"I'd like to go home," I whisper. I turn pleading eyes to Robards.

"Yes, of course, my dear," Robards says, his voice softening as he looks at me. "You have, indeed, had quite an experience. He turns to Ron. "Take her home, Mr. Weasley - and stay there yourself until I send for you."

Ron's already helping me to the door, but he turns at this. "Stay… home?" he repeats. "But don't you need my help with - with all this?"

"You may consider yourself on probation," Robards says sternly, turning away.

Ron looks at Perdita, but she shrugs helplessly.

"Come on," I whisper urgently, and Ron turns back to me at once.

"Let's get you home," he says. "Can you make it to the lift? Do you want me to carry you?"

"I'll be all right," I say, still leaning on him.

We're at the lift when Perdita catches up to us. "Sorry it happened like that," she says in a low voice. "But I did warn you. Gawain's got a brilliant mind, but he's pretty inflexible when it comes to following rules."

"So I just should've let Miranda kill Hermione, is that it?" Ron demands.

"I'm on your side, remember?" Perdita says sharply. "And no, of course he didn't mean that. I really think he might have forgiven you for taking off like that if you'd just told him what he wanted to know. Holding back information at this stage could be deadly; don't you see that?"

"Not _this_ information," Ron says. "The person who helped me hasn't got anything to do with all this."

Perdita sighs. "Just sleep on it, all right?" she says. "Don't do anything stupid - and whatever you do, don't come back till he sends for you. And that goes for you, too, Hermione - don't try to come back to work until all this is over. It isn't safe."

"I have to come back!" I protest, forgetting that I'm supposed to be weak and clinging. "With Miranda gone, there's no one else there!"

"Then Wilton Sikes is going to have to pull his socks up and do a bit of work for a change, isn't he?" Perdita says. "Stay home, Hermione."

"She will," Ron says, pulling me against his side. He looks down at me suspiciously. "Thought you didn't feel well."

Oops. "I don't," I say quickly, but I can tell he's not fooled. Perdita winks at me.

"I've got to go," she says, turning back toward the Auror Office. "I'll try to send you a message tomorrow, Ron - and mind you're careful going into your house. You'd better do a Disillusionment Charm to be safe."

Ron watches her go, then leans over to press the button for the lift. "You pretended not to feel well so I'd have to get out of there before I could say something stupid," he says. "Didn't you?"

"Yes," I admit.

Ron's quiet for a minute. "Thanks," he says simply.

I reach up and kiss him lightly. "Let's go home," I say.

**Harry**

"I will speak to Mr. Malfoy first," Robards says, forestalling anything I'd been about to say. "I shall wish to hear from you presently, Mr. Potter." He looks at Ginny and she smiles at him. "Miss Weasley, I presume?" he asks.

Ginny holds out her hand. "Thanks for sending Harry to fetch me," she says. "They'd have gotten me if it hadn't been for him!"

Robarsd looks startled. "I see that I shall need to speak with you as well," he remarks, shaking hands. "Now, Mr. Malfoy, if you please!"

Malfoy looks terrified, but sits down reluctantly in the chair across from Robards. I notice Perdita hovering in the doorway and hurry outside to talk to her. "Where are Ron and Hermione?" I whisper. "And what did you do with Rodolphus?"

"Azkaban," Perdita says, answering my last question first. "And Ron and Hermione have gone home - I hope. Harry, see if you can't talk some sense into Ron! He's refusing to give up information, and Gawain's simply furious with him. I don't want to see him fired over this."

_Fired?_ What the hell did Ron say? "What information?" I ask.

"He won't say who gave him the message from the house-elf," Perdita says, looking exasperated. "I can't think why he's being so stubborn - he must know we'd offer the person full protection!"

Protection from the Aurors wouldn't do Dennis much good when they're the ones he's hiding from. "Ron said that?" Ginny asks. I hadn't realized she'd followed me.

"Yeah," Perdita says. "You two don't happen to know who it was, do you?"

"Sorry," I lie, shaking my head. "I never thought to ask him."

Ginny shrugs silently, an odd expression on her face.

"Well, promise to talk to him, yeah?" Perdita says. She turns back toward the office. "I want to hear the rest of this."

Ginny and I hover uncertainly in the doorway. "What is this item that they think you have, Mr. Malfoy?" Robards is asking, and I hold my breath.

"I don't know!" Malfoy says. "Rodolphus gave me an envelope once and said there'd be further instructions in it, but I hid it in a library book, and then I lost it."

"Hermione found it when she was trying to repair the book," I interject, stepping forward. "Only we didn't know what it was, or that Rodolphus had given it to Malfoy. It was just a list of names."

Robards looks me over slowly, and I cringe internally. "I've got it at home," I offer. "But I can tell you what the names were."

Robards gestures wordlessly at a quill, and I start scribbling quickly, casting a covert look at Malfoy. "And you never looked in the envelope?" Robards is asking him.

"There wasn't time," Malfoy says. "And that - that thing must've been in there, too, because he never gave me anything else. But I swear I haven't got it, and I don't know what it is."

Robards looks in my direction, and I answer before he can ask. "There was nothing in that envelope but the list," I say. "We searched all around the Hogwarts library and retraced Malfoy's steps, but we never found anything else."

"We," Robards repeats.

"I mean, _I_," I say quickly. Ron's in enough trouble already.

"I helped him," Ginny says at once. "Only it's not easy looking for something when you don't know what you're looking for, so we didn't find it. But we did find something else." She pulls at the photograph album, still tucked under my arm, and I hand it to her silently.

"See," Ginny says, opening the album. "This is Miranda Brooks - the real one. I never met her myself, but Harry says this isn't the one from the House-Elf Office."

Perdita comes over, leaning over Robards' shoulder to see. "There's a resemblance," she says slowly. "But I think you're right, Harry. There's something different about her expression, isn't there?"

"Professor Sprout described her as sweet-natured and not very clever," I say, finding my voice again. "Doesn't sound much like the Miranda we know, does it?"

Robards looks at the album; then at us. "There's something else we need to settle," I say, before he can ask a question I don't want to answer. "What are we going to do with Malfoy? He'll need to go into hiding."

"Perdita," Robards says, and she nods, beckoning to Malfoy.

"I don't want to go," Malfoy bursts out. "Why can't I stay with Potter?"

_What?_ I realize my mouth is hanging open and close it quickly. "Because Miranda or whoever she is already knows you escaped with Hermione," Perdita answers before I can say anything. "That's the first place she'll look. And you can't go home, either, so don't even bother asking!"

"My parents," Malfoy starts, looking scared, and I feel briefly sorry for him.

"They are already under our protection," Robards assures him. "Go, Mr. Malfoy. It's perfectly safe."

Malfoy departs, giving me a quick look over his shoulder. "It'll be okay," I say lamely.

"Now," Robards says, turning to me and Ginny. "Suppose you begin, Miss Weasley."

Ginny sits down in Malfoy's empty chair and leans forward eagerly. She's a good story teller, and Robards is hanging on every word by the time she's finished. "So then," Ginny winds up dramatically, "Harry was trying to tell me where to go - in code, you know, in case anyone was listening - "

_Oh no,_ I think frantically. _I told her to go to the place where Dennis is._

"- and he said to go to the place where the goat is," Ginny finishes, and I breathe a silent sigh of relief. I should've known she's too quick-witted to make a slip like that.

"Goat?" Robards repeats.

"Aberforth Dumbledore," Ginny explains. She leans forward again and lowers her voice confidentially. "You've heard about him and the goat, haven't you?"

"Er," Robards says, reddening.

"Anyway, we weren't there five minutes before Ron and Hermione showed up with Malfoy," Ginny finishes. "And then - but I expect you know the rest, don't you?"

"I expect I do," Robards says, looking bemused. "Now, Mr. Potter, I believe you have a list for me."

I hand him the parchment and wait while he scans it silently. "Xanthia Davis," he says. "Yes, I see. This explains why you were so concerned about Miss Weasley's safety. And Sebastian Flint. Quite." He looks up. "Mr. Potter, who told Mr. Weasley that Winky the house-elf knew where Miss Granger was being held captive?" he demands.

The question comes so unexpectedly that I've no time to prepare for it. "What?" I say stupidly. "Er, I thought Winky told him herself."

Robards' eyes bore into mine and I deliberately make my mind a blank.

"Very well," he says at last. "If you should find out anything to the contrary, I expect you to come to me immediately with the information. Is that clear?"

"Yes," I say, managing to look puzzled.

Robards is still regarding me suspiciously. "I take a dim view of your recent actions, Mr. Potter," he says warningly. "A _very_ dim view. You and Mr. Weasley both seem to believe that the end justifies the means, but I can assure you that such renegade behavior will not be tolerated in my Department."

I grit my teeth. "It won't happen again," I say stiffly.

Robards sighs. "It's been a long day," he says. "Mr. Potter, does Miss Weasley have a safe place to stay? I don't think it advisable for her to return to Holyhead just yet."

"She can come home with me," I say.

Robards nods, dismissing us, and we hurry out into the hall before he can change his mind. "Harry, are you sure it's going to be all right for me to stay at Grimmauld Place?" Ginny whispers. "Ron - "

"The hell with Ron," I say, putting my arm around her. "You're my girlfriend, and he's just going to have to get used to it."

Ginny smiles up at me. "All the same, I'm awfully proud of him for what he did tonight," she says. "Even though I think he's an idiot for doing it."

I couldn't have put it better myself. "Let's go," I say, starting toward the lift.

"Goodness, I accidentally took the photograph album," Ginny realizes, hanging back. "Should I bring it back, do you think?"

"No," I say quickly. "We might never get out of there. Just take it along and I'll bring it back to Robards tomorrow."

Kreacher's waiting in the hall for us as we emerge from under the Invisibility Cloak. "Kreacher's master's lady has come home with him," he remarks to the coat rack, looking sideways at Ginny. "Kreacher wonders if she will be staying here."

"Kreacher, you remember Ginny," I say, secretly liking the "master's lady" bit. "And yeah, she'll be staying for awhile." I look around. "Where're Ron and Hermione?"

Kreacher rolls his eyes expressively toward the staircase, and I hear Ginny muffle a laugh. "Kreacher has prepared a lovely dinner," he says, still to the coat rack. "But will anyone be bothered with eating it, that is what Kreacher would like to know!"

"I'm absolutely starving," Ginny says, smiling at Kreacher.

So am I, I realize. "We'll eat right away," I say to Kreacher. "And you might as well keep some hot. If I know Ron, he'll be down looking for food sooner or later."

Sure enough, Ron and Hermione join us when we're nearly finished with dinner Hermione's hair is wet and she's wearing her dressing gown. "Sorry to keep you waiting," she says. "I simply had to take a shower after being in that cellar for so long."

Ron hovers over her protectively till she's seated, then pulls a plate toward himself without a word. "Sorry about Robards," I say to him awkwardly. "Perdita says he was pretty rough on you."

Ron shrugs like he doesn't care, but I can tell he's upset. "Harry, you think I did the right thing, don't you?" he bursts out. "About Dennis, I mean."

I don't know if he did the right thing or not, but that's not what Ron needs to hear right now. "You kept your word to Dennis," I say finally.

"Of course you did," Ginny says warmly. "If you'd given him up, he would have been hauled straight in front of the Wizengamut - and probably Ab would've been in trouble, too."

Ron gives her a startled look, but I can't tell if it's because she stuck up for him or because it hadn't occurred to him to worry about Aberforth. It hadn't occurred to me, either, to be honest - I don't think Ab loses much sleep worrying about the Wizengamut.

"What's that?" Hermione asks, nodding at the photograph album.

"We found Miranda," Ginny says, picking up the album and moving over to sit next to Hermione. "Or Professor Sprout did, anyway. Look, here she is!"

Hermione and Ron both lean over to get a better look. "It's not the same girl I worked with," Hermione says positively. "She looks a bit like her, but - but - "

"I know," I say. "I think it's the expression."

Ginny turns the page. "Miranda was a year ahead of Bill, it looks like," she remarks. "Look, here's Bill as a fourth-year - and here's his third-year class."

Ron reaches over. "Here's Charlie's first-year class," he says. "Look, there's Charlie - what's that on his shoulder; a ferret? - and here's - oh, first-year Slytherins. Who wants to look at _them_?" He moves to turn the page, but Hermione puts out a hand to stop him.

"Wait," she says, staring at the page. "See the girl at the end of the second-to-last row?"

"Yeah," Ron says. "What about her?" He taps the page. "Here, you, let's have a look at you."

The girl in the picture hangs back, clearly reluctant, but the boy behind her gives her a shove and she stumbles forward, hanging her head so that her dark hair nearly obscures her face.

"_That's_ Miranda," Hermione says. "I mean Talitha. I - oh, you know what I mean!"

"Are you sure?" Ron asks, frowning. "She's only a kid."

"I'm positive," Hermione says firmly.

"Let's see how she looked when she was a bit older," I suggest, coming over to stand behind Ginny. "Maybe there's a better picture of her."

We turn to the same class's second-year picture, but Miranda/Talitha's not in it. Nor is she in the third-year photograph… or the fourth…

"Maybe she didn't come back after first year," Ron offers. "That'd explain why she said it wasn't her fault she never learned Arithmancy."

"It explains why no one remembers her, too," Hermione says. "Oh, I wish they'd bothered to put names with these pictures!"

Ginny carefully removes the photograph of Talitha's class from the book to check, but the back is blank. "Maybe one of the teachers would remember her name," she says hopefully.

"I doubt it, if she was only there for a year," I say. "The only one who'd be likely to is her Head of House, but that would have been Snape."

We all look at each other helplessly. There doesn't seem to be anything more to be said.

**Draco**

This flat's all right, but I don't like the idea of being here by myself. I look around for a drink to steady my nerves, but all I can find is a half-bottle of wine. I'm just pouring myself a glass when a sudden noise makes me start, and I end up spilling the wine all over myself.

"Just the Muggles next door," Perdita says, watching me. "Does it bother you? I can put a Silencing Charm on."

And then I'd never hear them sneaking up on me. "No, leave it," I say.

She nods and turns to go. "Sure you're all right?" she asks. "I have to get back, but I could send someone to stay with you."

I shake my head. That's all I need - a bloody Auror hanging over me. But it's worse after she's gone. Every little noise is magnified. I've got to get out of here - I'll go mad. But where? I don't dare go home - and I don't trust any of my so-called friends. They're all in league with Talitha. All except….

Blaise Zabini. "Got involved with the wrong woman," isn't that what Nott said? And Granger told me Talitha as much as admitted she'd had an affair with Zabini, and that she was out to get him. Only she won't find him. She won't know where to look. But I do.

I do a Disillusionment Charm on myself and put out the lights so that anyone watching will think I've gone to bed. As silently as possible, I creep out of the flat and into the dark streets. 

**Hermione**

"Well, I'm off," Harry says, throwing Ron an apologetic look. "I'll let you know if anything happens, okay?"

"We'll be here," Ron says. "It's not like I can do anything else."

"I've been thinking," I say, a little hesitantly. "Maybe if you explained things to Dennis…"

"He'd want to come forward?" Harry finishes for me. "Hermione's right, Ron - Dennis wouldn't want you to lose your - er, I mean, be on probation because of him."

"I'm not saying anything to Dennis!" Ron says stubbornly. "He'd feel like he had to turn himself in. He's just a kid - you know what'd happen to him in Azkaban!" His eyes hold both of ours in turn. "Promise me you won't say anything to him."

Harry and I both promise - a bit reluctantly. The silence is awkward until Ginny breaks it, appearing at the foot of the stairs in a pair of my jeans and my favorite sweater.

"I'm ready," she announces. "Thanks for loaning me some clothes, Hermione."

"Ready for what?" I ask, startled. "Surely you're not going back to Holyhead. You know what Robards said - it's not safe."

"I'm not going to Holyhead," Ginny answers. "I'm going to the Ministry with Harry." She smiles into his eyes. "Let's go."

"Are you both completely mental?" Ron demands, glaring at them. "Someone was out to kidnap Ginny yesterday! She's better off staying here."

"They were just _following_ me," Ginny says. "We don't know that they meant to kidnap me. Anyway, I'd go mad if I had to spend the whole day watching the pair of you snog on the sofa." She catches my eye. "Sorry, Hermione. But you know that's how it'd be."

"It's not safe," Ron repeats.

Harry looks uneasy. "Safe enough in the Auror Department, don't you think?" he asks. "And we've got the Cloak."

Ron turns away without answering. "Hermione?" Harry says, appealing to me.

I think about it. "Maybe if she were in disguise," I compromise. I look Ginny over. "It's your hair that's really noticeable, I think. If you changed that - "

Harry's already got his wand out. "Blonde or brunette?" he asks Ginny.

"Brunette," Ginny says promptly. "I don't want to look like Fleur."

I wait for the front door to close behind them before going in search of Ron. I find him in the sitting room, leafing aimlessly through the photograph album. Oh dear, Harry was supposed to bring that back today. Well, never mind - it can't be all that important anymore.

I sit down next to Ron on the sofa, and he slips an arm around my shoulders. "If I get thrown out of the Aurors, I'll have to look for another job," he says, not looking up.

"You're not going to be thrown out," I say firmly, even though I'm not at all sure. Robards appears to require unquestioning obedience to his rules, and I don't think either Ron or Harry are cut out for that.

"Maybe George would take me on for a bit," Ron says, apparently not listening. "Or maybe I could ask Reg Cattermole if they need help in Magical Maintenance."

For heaven's sake. "You're _good_ at being an Auror," I say, still more firmly. "Robards will realize that when - when - "

Ron looks up at last. "When what?"

"When we find out what Miranda - I mean, Talitha's up to," I say, realizing I've just committed myself to helping him break another of Robards' injunctions.

Ron face brightens. "You think?" he asks. "Hermione, if we could just figure out what she wanted those Time-Turners for - and what that bloody _thing_ is - "

"I think Robards already knows what the thing is," I say. "He just doesn't know _where_ it is."

"Well, neither does she," Ron says, tapping the page in front of him.

I lean over to look at Talitha's picture again, and she glares back at me balefully.

"I wonder why she left?" I say. "Maybe she was ill - if she was, Madam Pomphrey might remember her."

"Or one of the other kids from her year might," Ron says. "Maybe the boy who shoved her - only I think that's Simon Parkinson and he's definitely not going to tell us!"

I look back at the picture. Ron's right - the boy has the same sort of pushed-in face as Pansy. "None of those kids are going to help us," I point out. "They're all Slytherins."

"Yeah, good point," Ron says, closing the album. "Maybe we should go back to Hogwarts and - "

"We should _not_," I say firmly. "If Robards finds out…"

Ron slumps back against the sofa. "We've got to do _something_!" he protests. "We can't just sit around and wait for everyone else to solve it without us!"

"We don't have to," I say, getting up. "We can do plenty of research right here."

Ron eyes me suspiciously. "That's your 'let's go to the library' look," he remarks. "Only we can't - unless you've changed your mind about Hogwarts?"

"There are plenty of books right here," I say. "And we're only looking for one thing."

"If it's Arithmancy, you don't need me," Ron says, looking relieved. "I'll just build up the fire and you can sit here next to me and read and - "

"_I'm_ going to look up Arithmancy," I say. "_You_ can read up on Time-Turners."

I hurry upstairs for my books before he can say anything else.

**Harry**

Robards is nowhere to be found. I stand in the doorway of his empty office, feeling let down. It's not like I expected him to wait for me or anything, but I wanted to talk to him some more about the mysterious missing object that Talitha and Rodolphus are after. If you ask me, Robards knows a lot more about this particular item than he's been letting on. It has to be what he was looking for at Spinner's End… and what he questioned Crabbe about, at Azkaban. Something that disappeared right before Voldemort's fall, isn't that what he said? Only it wasn't a Horcrux - he said he wasn't a Horcrux…

"Looking for Gawain?" Persimmon says from behind me, and I jump nervously. "He's at Azkaban still, I think," she confides, lowering her voice. "He's been there all night."

I turn away from the office and sit down on a vacant chair. I wish he'd offered to let me go with him, even though I dread the thought of returning to Azkaban. Something else nags at the back of my mind - something about my last visit - but I can't quite grasp what I'm trying to remember…

"Not here?" Ginny asks, coming over. "Have you got to wait for him, or is there something else we could be doing?"

I look up at her, startled. "I can't get used to you with dark hair," I say.

"Neither can I," Ginny says. "It even feels different." She tosses it over her shoulder as she speaks.

"There probably is something else," I say, realizing I never answered her question. "Only I just can't think what, exactly. There was that business about Flint getting Time-Turners for them - that must mean something."

"Let Hermione work on that," Ginny advises. "She'll likely have the whole thing figured out by the time we get home tonight. It's not like they've got anything else to do." She frowns and adds, "It doesn't feel right, having to leave them out, does it? Maybe if Ron just explained things to Dennis - "

"Forget it," I say. "Hermione and I tried that idea this morning and he's dead-set against it."

"But I know Dennis," Ginny argues. "He'd feel terrible if he knew what was happening. Wouldn't you, if you were in his position?"

She's got me there. "Yeah," I admit. "But we promised Ron we wouldn't say anything to him."

"_You_ promised," Ginny says. "_I_ wasn't even there."

I open my mouth to argue, but Perdita's hurrying toward us, obviously upset. "There you are, Harry," she says breathlessly. "Who - oh, Ginny! I didn't recognize you with dark hair."

"Neither did Harry," Ginny says, grinning at her. "What's wrong?"

"Bloody Draco Malfoy, that's what's wrong!" Perdita says.

I have a sinking feeling I know what's coming. "He took off, didn't he?" I say.

Perdita nods grimly. "I went round to check on him this morning and he'd disappeared," she says. "Of all the idiots! He's fair game once he's out on the street; doesn't he know that?"

"Are you sure he left of his own free will?" I ask.

"Positive," Perdita says. "There's no chance anyone spotted us, and in any case, the flat's unplottable. You can't find it without knowing the address - and Gawain's the Secret-Keeper."

Like Grimmauld Place, then. "Malfoy's never been at his best under pressure," I say. "Maybe he just went home or something."

"I checked," Perdita says. "He didn't. And I haven't time to go out looking for him right now." She lowers her voice. "Did you talk to Ron?"

I shrug helplessly. "He said the person's got nothing to do with any of the rest of this," I offer lamely.

Perdita sighs. "Keep trying," she advises. "I know Gawain, and he's not going to back down. If - " She breaks off, eyes narrowing. "Nothing to do with the rest of this… but it's a person Ron's protecting," she repeats thoughtfully.

Damn it. She's good, Perdita. "What about Malfoy?" I ask hastily. "We can't let them catch him - he knows too much at this point."

"Well," Ginny says to me. "You were wanting something to do."

"Oh, Harry, would you?" Perdita says gratefully. "I'm supposed to be at Azkaban right now - Gawain wants me there for the rest of the interrogation." She shudders. "I hate that place," she adds frankly. "Those guards are only about one evolutionary step away from trolls!"

The guards… that was it. "Send me a Patronus if you find anything!" Perdita's saying over her shoulder.

I jump to my feet. "Perdita, wait!" I say. "Those guards - there's one you need to watch out for."

**Ron**

"There's nothing in any of these about Time-Turners except the standard definition," I say, tossing the last of Hermione's books onto the stack on the floor. "And I could've told you _that_ before I bothered looking it up." Sort of.

"This doesn't make any sense!" Hermione says, not listening. She taps her Arithmancy book with her quill, looking frustrated.

"What doesn't?" I ask, even though all I know about Arithmancy is that I'm glad I never took the class.

"This," Hermione says, holding something out. I recognize it as the cocktail napkin we found on the stairs at the Ministry. "I'm sure it's got something to do with what Miranda wanted me for."

"Well, you said it was all wrong," I offer. "Maybe she wanted you to fix it."

Hermione shakes her head, looking distracted. "There's no fixing this!" she says. "It's the whole premise that's wrong. Oh, I wish I could show it to Professor Vector!"

And there we are. "You can," I say carefully. "You could show her… and we could find out a bit more about Time-Turners from McGonagall or Flitwick…and we could see if Madam Pomphrey remembers Talitha…"

Hermione's eyes narrow. "No," she says.

"Ah, go on, Hermione," I say coaxingly. "Robards didn't say I had to stay in Grimmauld Place - he just said not to come to the Ministry." I take the Arithmancy book from her hand and shift a bit closer. "What could happen to us at Hogwarts, anyway? It's perfectly safe there. We could be in and out before anyone even misses us."

"Well," Hermione says, wavering.

"Good," I say, getting up. "Let's go."

"Wait," Hermione protests. "I can't go yet. I can't go see Professor Vector when I never finished those Arithmancy problems she sent me to do."

I sit back down. "How long will it take you to finish?" I ask resignedly.

"Half an hour if you leave me alone," Hermione says, reaching for her quill again. "Don't you have something to do?"

I guess I could stand to eat something - I didn't have much appetite for breakfast, but I feel a lot better now that we're actually doing something. "Yeah, okay," I say, drifting toward the door.

Kreacher's busy washing dishes, but he immediately stops and bows when I come in. I sort of wish he'd stop doing that, but at least he likes us now. "Hey, Kreacher," I say, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Got anything to eat?"

Hermione would tell me I can't possibly be hungry already, but Kreacher's eyes light up. "Certainly Kreacher does, sir," he says, making a plate of cream cakes appear on the table in front of me. A teapot and cup follow. "Kreacher wonders if you would care for anything else, sir," he says, bowing again.

"No," I say through a mouthful of cake. All the elves seem to know how to make these little cakes. I'm going to miss them when Hermione and I get our own place. Neither one of us is very good at cooking - we might have to go out quite a lot, or else drop in on Mum and Dad around dinner time like George does.

Kreacher turns back to the sink and I watch in silence, ducking out of the way as he sends a gleaming copper pot flying through the air to its hook on the wall. I suddenly remember one of the scraps of conversation Hermione and Malfoy overheard yesterday. "Kreacher? Can I ask you something?"

Kreacher turns again. "Kreacher _was_ saving the rest of the treacle tart for his master," he says resignedly. "It's Kreacher's master's favorite, but if Kreacher _must_ - "

"No, it's not about food," I say. "It's about Regulus." I don't know why I never thought of it before, but Regulus was probably the one who dropped that coin. Hermione and I have his old room. (We hung bedsheets over all the old Slytherin banners because they wouldn't come off the walls.)

Kreacher goes very still and his hand reaches for the locket around his neck. "Sir?" he says.

I hesitate, wondering how to phrase it. "Did Regulus ever tell you anything about a special sort of coin?" I ask at last. I should have brought it to show to him - he's not going to have a clue what I mean…

But Kreacher's nodding slowly. "You is referring to the Galleon of the Dark Lord, sir?" he asks.

**Draco**

Zabini's not at all pleased to see me. "What the hell are you doing here?" he hisses, peering at me through a narrow sliver of doorway.

"Are you going to let me in or not?" I demand, looking back over my shoulder. No one followed me - at least, I don't think they did - but I'd like to get out of the open.

"Hurry up," Zabini says, reluctantly opening the door another couple of inches. I manage to squeeze through, and he immediately locks it behind me. "You shouldn't have come here, Malfoy," he says accusingly. "How did you manage to find me?"

"It wasn't exactly difficult," I say, dropping into a chair. "You used to talk about your mum's fourth husband's weekend cottage all the time. The only reason you cared about passing your Apparition test was so you could bring girls here."

Zabini looks briefly amused. "I'd forgotten that," he says, going to the sideboard and pouring something into a glass. "Fortunately, I never did bring anyone here, or I couldn't have come now." His face turns accusing again. "And you shouldn't be here. What if you've been followed?"

"You might offer me one of those," I say, eyeing his glass. "Who do you think was going to follow me - Talitha?"

Zabini chokes on his drink, and I take the opportunity to get up and fix myself a firewhisky. It's the best brand - the one Father always buys. "How do you know about Talitha?" Zabini's saying in a slightly strangled voice.

I think about telling him what she did to me, but then decide against it. If he thought Talitha was after me, he'd definitely throw me out. "I heard talk, that's all," I say casually. I smirk at him. "I heard she's not very pleased with you."

"It was just a misunderstanding," Zabini says, looking away.

"Right," I say. "Going to send her some flowers, then?"

Zabini glares at me. "Oh, all right!" he says, giving in. "I just flirted with her a bit at first - she's quite attractive, for an older woman - and then, well, you know. And then - er - she's a bit intense, Talitha. She didn't take it at all well when I tried to break things off. So I thought I'd better remove myself until she'd had a chance to calm down." He looks suddenly worried. "She didn't send you, did she?" he adds anxiously.

I think about saying yes, just to amuse myself - I've had to put up with quite a bit of attitude from Blaise Zabini over the years - but there really isn't time. "No, of course not," I say. "As a matter of fact, I'd just as soon avoid her myself."

"Good," Zabini says, relieved. "But you really mustn't stay here."

"I don't want to stay here," I answer. "I just want to ask you some questions."

Zabini thinks about it. "And then you'll go?" he asks hopefully.

"And then I'll go," I say.

**Harry**

"Where would you go, if you were Draco Malfoy?" Ginny asks, sitting down across from me in the Ministry Café.

I look around before answering, but the Café's still deserted except for a few kitchen workers and Dean, touching up a painting on the far wall. It's easier to concentrate here than it was in the Auror Office, but my mind is still a blank. "We know he didn't go home," I say slowly. "I don't think he would've gone anyplace in Diagon Alley - not with Talitha's lot after him - and I don't think he'd have gone back to Hogsmeade, obviously."

"No, they do all seem to be hanging out there these days, don't they?" Ginny agrees. "Well, what about his friends? I - what? Why are you staring at me?"

"Hogsmeade," I say. "You're right. They are all hanging about there - but why? What was Blaise Zabini doing at Madam Puddifoot's? And why did Talitha and Rodolphus pick the Shrieking Shack, out of the hundreds of places they could have hidden Hermione?"

Ginny's eyes are wide. "Same reason Voldemort went there - because it has a passage into Hogwarts," she answers slowly. "But still - why? Voldemort was after his last Horcrux, but it's gone."

"And he was after me, but I'm not at Hogwarts either," I say, puzzled. "Maybe we're wrong. Maybe Rodolphus remembered the cellar in the Shack and just thought it'd make a good hiding place."

"We're not wrong," Ginny says firmly. "I just can't figure out why we're right."

We're both silent for a minute, and then I remember. "Malfoy," I say, feeling a twinge of guilt. "We're supposed to be thinking about where he could be."

"I'm sick of Malfoy," Ginny says frankly. "What a prat, running off like that! I expect he's hiding out with one of his Slytherin friends."

"They're all part of Talitha's gang," I remind her.

Ginny giggles. "Blaise Zabini isn't," she says. "Not anymore."

Blaise Zabini… but he's disappeared, too. I cast my mind over the little I know about Zabini, and remember Mrs. Weasley saying something at Christmas about his mother remarrying for the eighth time. (She'd been a bit tight-lipped about the whole thing, actually.) "Do you think your mum would remember who Zabini's mother's married to these days?" I ask.

"Maybe," Ginny says with a shrug. "Or Fleur might. She reads the gossip pages all the time."

It's not much of a lead, but it's all we've got. "Let's try Fleur first," I say, looking at Ginny's hair. "I don't want to have to explain your new look to your mum."

We're halfway to the door when Dean calls to us. "I've finally finished Slytherin!" he says, brandishing a paint brush triumphantly. "Come and have a look!"

I hesitate, feeling nothing but impatience to get on, but Ginny tugs at my arm. "It'll only take a minute," she whispers.

I let her lead me across the floor. "It's brilliant," Ginny says admiringly, gazing at the larger-than-life Founders. "Look at Gryffindor, Harry - isn't he just the way you've always pictured him?"

But I have eyes for no one but Salazar Slytherin. His cold eyes look mockingly into mine while his thin mouth sneers, and at the throat of his robes…

"Dean," I try to say, but it comes out as a whisper. I clear my throat and try again. "Dean, what's that on Slytherin's robes?"

Dean looks over to where I'm pointing and shrugs. "Dunno, but he had it on in the picture I found," he says. "Some sort of brooch or something, I reckon - or maybe it's just what he used to fasten his cloak with."

Ginny stops looking at Gryffindor's portrait and joins me. "What was that about Slytherin's cloak?" she asks. "And men don't wear brooches, Dean."

"They might've, a thousand years ago," Dean's arguing, but Ginny isn't listening. I watch her face as the realization dawns.

"I could swear I've seen it before somewhere," she says, puzzled.

"We've got to go," I say quickly, taking her hand. "Nice work, Dean! We'll see you later."

"I liked your hair better red!" Dean calls after us. Ginny's not listening.

"It looked familiar to you, too, didn't it?" she asks me.

"Because we've seen it," I say. "We _had_ it. Ginny, what did you do with that button I gave you at Hogwarts? Remember, the one I found on the floor?"

Ginny gasps. "I threw it in Mum's sewing basket when I got home," she whispers. "It's probably still there. Harry, do you think that's the _thing_ they've all been looking for?"

"I don't know," I say, pulling out the Invisibility Cloak. "But it's definitely the thing I found at Hogwarts."

**Hermione**

I finish the Arithmancy problems more quickly than I'd expected - either I'm getting really good at it, or they weren't terribly difficult. I roll the parchment up neatly and look up, expecting to see Ron pacing impatiently - but he's not there.

I follow the sound of voices to the kitchen. "Kreacher was dusting the upstairs hallway when he heard Master Regulus and Master Sirius talking about it," Kreacher's saying, a faraway look in his eyes. He doesn't appear to notice me, and Ron, at the table, puts a cautioning finger to his lips.

I sit down next to him. "Master Regulus called it a mark of the Dark Lord's favor," Kreacher says. "Only those of his most devoted followers, he said, were entitled to receive it."

_What_, for heaven's sake? Maybe he means the Dark Mark, although if you ask me, Voldemort wasn't exactly particular about the people he bestowed _that_ little favor on.

"Master Sirius laughed at that," Kreacher says, a shadow crossing his face. "He said a Galleon was a just a coin, and only good for what you could buy with it. And Master Regulus grew very angry, and said the Galleon of the Dark Lord was far more than just a coin - although, when pressed, he could not explain why, sir."

Oh, the coin! Goodness, I never thought to ask Kreacher. I lean forward a little, listening intently.

"Did Regulus have one?" Ron asks.

Kreacher looks away. "Master Regulus was not given a Galleon by the Dark Lord, sir," he says evasively. "But Kreacher believes he may have possessed one, all the same."

"Did you ever see it, Kreacher?" I ask. Kreacher starts, registering my presence for the first time.

"Kreacher may have," he says, still looking guarded.

Ron looks sideways at me. "So that's what became of old Rabastan's coin," he says in a low voice. "Regulus must've helped himself to it."

"Indeed he did not, sir!" Kreacher says indignantly. "Master Regulus was many things, but a thief he was not. He won that coin in a wager with Rodolphus Lestrange." He remembers belatedly that he isn't supposed to have known anything about it and closes his mouth firmly.

"Kreacher has many things to do today," he says, turning away from us. "So much dusting, so much baking…"

"Kreacher?" I say, but he pretends not to hear. "Kreacher," I say, more loudly. "I'm sure Regulus came by that coin honestly. We just wanted to know if it has any powers."

Kreacher turns, looking surprised. "_Magical_ powers, Miss?" he asks. "Kreacher thinks not. And in any case, it has never been seen since Master Regulus died, these many years ago." A dust cloth appears in his hands out of thin air. "Kreacher must dust the sitting room now," he says firmly.

Ron and I take the hint and leave. "What do you think of all that?" I ask, once we're safely out of earshot. "I suppose Rodolphus stole it from his brother and then lost it to Regulus - so the one we found is really the one that belonged to Rabastan."

Ron shrugs. "It's interesting and all, but I don't think it really matters," he says. "Like Kreacher said, it doesn't have any powers."

I know he's probably right, but just the same… "I'd like to have another look at it, anyway," I say.

"Take it along with us, then," Ron says, glancing at his watch. "I want to get to Hogwarts and back before Robards decides to have another go at me."

**Ron**

I see a small shadow disappearing into Madam Puddifoot's and think _"Winky?"_, but Hermione's tugging at my arm. "Come on," she whispers. "We haven't got much time."

Aberforth looks up as Hermione and I - disguised as an elderly couple - walk into the Hog's Head. "Have you come for a drink?" he asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

I look around, but the place (as usual) is empty. "Ab, it's us," I whisper. "Ron and Hermione. We just need to get through the passage."

"My life was a lot simpler before the lot of you came along," Ab grumbles, but he waves us toward the stairs. Dennis, luckily, is nowhere to be seen, and I hustle Hermione into Ariana's portrait before he can hear us and come in.

We stop in the Room of Requirement just long enough to remove our disguises. "Who do you want to talk to first?" I ask Hermione.

"Why don't you go talk to Madam Pomphrey while I track down Professor Vector?" Hermione says, but there's no way I'm leaving her on her own - even in Hogwarts.

"Come with me first," I say, taking her hand. "Professor Vector's probably busy teaching a class - it's the middle of the morning."

The corridors are empty, but we can hear voices behind most of the classroom doors as we make our way to the hospital wing. Madam Pomphrey comes to meet us in the doorway.

"Why, Hermione - and Ron, too!" she says, startled. "What on earth are you two doing here? Not ill, I hope?"

"Not at all," Hermione says, smiling at her. "I had to come and see Professor Vector about an Arithmancy question, and I thought - er, we thought - " She pauses, flustered. She obviously hadn't worked this bit out yet.

"We thought you might be willing to have a look at Hermione's ankle," I say, taking over. "She twisted it yesterday."

"It's perfectly fine," Hermione objects. She smiles at Madam Pomphrey, looking embarrassed. "Ron's just being overprotective."

Madam Pomphrey's already pulling a chair forward. "Sit down," she says firmly to Hermione. "Take your shoe off… hmm; and can you bend it? Any pain?"

"None," Hermione says, throwing me an accusing look.

"Well, it looks all right," Madam Pomphrey said. "Did someone do a Healing spell for you?"

I can't resist. "I did," I say. Hermione rolls her eyes at me, and I grin back, daring her to call me a liar.

Madam Pomphrey beams at me. "Well done," she says approvingly. "I suppose that with all the time you spent in the hospital wing, _something_ must have sunk in."

There's our opening. "I guess you've probably seen a lot of sick kids in here," I say carefully.

"None of them as often as I saw _you_," Madam Pomphrey says, but Hermione's already caught on.

"Was there ever anyone who was so sick they had to leave school for good?" she asks.

Madam Pomphrey looks thoughtful. "Well, I had my doubts about Katie Bell, but St. Mungo's put her right in the end," she answers. "No, my dears, I flatter myself that I've managed to handle everything that's come along - although you two and Harry Potter certainly tested my skills!"

Well, that's that. "Come on, Hermione," I say. "We'd better see if we can catch Professor Vector between classes."

"I don't suppose it's really important who she was, anyway," Hermione says thoughtfully as we head up a staircase to Professor Vector's office. "Only it might have given us a clue about where she is now."

I don't see how, myself, but never mind. "This is it," Hermione says, stopping outside an open door. "Oh dear - she's not here."

I look over her shoulder. The office is a good-sized one, and the chairs look pretty comfortable. "She won't mind if we wait for her in here, will she?" I ask, making myself at home. "Class should be through in about fifteen minutes or so."

"I don't know if we should - " Hermione says hesitantly, but she breaks off in mid-sentence. I look up to see why and catch her staring at a wall of books. Arithmancy books - great. Real page-turners, those.

Hermione's already pulling one from the top shelf. "She won't mind if I have a look at this," she whispers, almost to herself. I settle back in my chair and resign myself to a boring fifteen minutes. But if we can just find something out today, it's worth it. Robards'd _have_ to let me back in if I found out something important - wouldn't he?

Hermione slams the book shut. "We have to go," she says abruptly.

I stare at her. "Huh? Why?"

"Because," Hermione says in a low voice. "Now I know why she wanted the Time Turners. And we have to find Harry right away before it's too late."

**Harry**

"Why, Harry dear!" Mrs. Weasley says, turning from the stove. "And - Ginevra Molly! _What_ have you done to yourself?" She's glaring at her daughter. "Please tell me you haven't gone and dyed your lovely hair!"

"It was me that did it, Mrs. Weasley," I say quickly. "I needed to practice disguises for being an Auror, and Ginny was nice enough to let me try one out on her."

"It's not permanent, Mum," Ginny adds. "The disguise'll wear off in a bit."

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley says, relaxing. "Well, as long as it's just temporary - and after all, I suppose it's important for you to learn these things, Harry dear. I - but what are you two doing here? Ginny, shouldn't you be practicing - er - flying, or something?"

Ginny grins at me behind her mother's back. Mrs. Weasley knows even less about Quidditch than Hermione does. "Day off," she says breezily. "So I came home to get my heavy sweater. It's freezing in Holyhead."

"You'd better take your wool scarf, too," Mrs. Weasley says at once. "And I'll pack some food for you to bring back - I just did some baking."

Ginny gives me a meaningful look and I step forward, holding out my jacket. "Mrs. Weasley, you couldn't fix this for me, could you?" I ask. "I seem to have lost a button." _Thirty seconds ago on your doorstep when I tore it off and hid it in my pocket…_

Mrs. Weasley's beaming. "Of course I could, dear," she says warmly. "I'll just fetch my sewing basket, and - "

"I'll fetch it, Mum," Ginny says, almost running from the room in her haste. _"Just our luck, she's gone and sewn it on Dad's winter pajamas or something,"_ she'd whispered as we stood outside making our plans. Well, if she has, I'll just have to pretend to be very particular about the sort of button I want - even though it won't match the others on my jacket - and see if she comes up with it.

"You'd like a cup of tea, wouldn't you, Harry dear?" Mrs. Weasley's asking. A cup zooms toward me as she speaks. "And something to eat?" A plate joins the cup.

"Er," I say, listening for the sound of Ginny's footsteps. She returns, breathless, and nods at me, patting her pocket.

"Ah, here we are," Mrs. Weasley says, reaching for the sewing basket. "Ginny, sit down, for heaven's sake! Have a cup of tea with Harry while I look for a button that matches the others."

Ginny and I exchange despairing looks, but we can't very well go tearing out of here saying I've changed my mind. Anyway, how long can it take to sew on a button - especially if you're using magic?

Quite a while, as it turns out - at least if you're as particular about matching buttons as Mrs. Weasley is. "It doesn't matter," I say for the dozenth time. "I don't care how it looks as long as it stays buttoned."

"Here!" Mrs. Weasley says, pouncing on something at the bottom of the basket. "This one should be perfect."

The sewing part - fortunately - goes a lot faster. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," I say, grabbing my jacket. "Come on, Ginny."

"Wait!" Mrs. Weasley calls after us. "Ginny, you never took your sweater and scarf! And your food parcel!"

Ginny rolls her eyes at me and starts up the stairs at a run. Mrs. Weasley flicks her wand at the kitchen cupboards. I watch with concealed impatience as a loaf of bread and several biscuits come flying out and onto a large piece of brown parchment. "Mrs. Weasley, do you remember who Blaise Zabini's mother married?" I ask abruptly.

"_That_ one," Mrs. Weasley says, her lips thinning. "An elderly Frenchman - quite wealthy, _naturally_."

"You don't know his name, do you?" I ask hopefully, but she's already shaking her head.

"It scarcely matters," she says. "She'll be rid of him soon enough. I've _told_ Arthur there ought to be some sort of investigation, but he says there's no evidence." Her face brightens. "Don't tell me the Aurors are looking into it at last?"

"Not a word to anyone," I caution, feeling a twinge of guilt at the lie.

Mrs. Weasley nods conspiratorially and turns back to the cupboards.

It's several seconds before I realize there's a voice coming from my jacket - Ron's voice. I take advantage of Mrs. Weasley's distraction to slip out into the hall.

"What is it?" I whisper, pulling the mirror half from my pocket. Good thing he didn't do that while his mum was sewing the button on…

"Harry, we've found out something important!" Ron whispers. "Or Hermione has, anyway. Can you come back?"

"To Grimmauld Place?" I ask, hesitating. Can't he just tell me now? I don't want to lose time going home - not when we may have finally gotten out hands on the thing everyone's been searching for…

"No, to the Room of Requirement," Ron answers. "Hurry up - Hermione thinks there might not be much time left."

What the hell are they doing at Hogwarts? I start to ask, but the mirror's already gone dark.

**Draco**

"Are you sure?" I say blankly.

Zabini looks bored. "Of course I'm sure," he says. "After all, it's what they - I mean, _we _- all want, isn't it? It'd make everything the way it used to be - for us."

_They?_ Sounds like Zabini's tired of living on the edge, too. "Yeah," I say, carefully ignoring his slip. "Only I don't understand how she's going to do it."

"Well, neither do I, exactly," Zabini admits. "She was always poring over Arithmancy books, but she really hasn't any talent for it."

Arithmancy? But that's what Talitha wanted Granger for, isn't it?

"I've got to go," I say abruptly, setting my glass aside.

"Good," Zabini says, relieved. "Not that I haven't enjoyed the company, of course - but don't come back, Malfoy, all right?"

"Don't worry," I say, opening the door a crack to peer out.

Zabini hovers close behind, clearly afraid I'm going to change my mind. "Where will you go?" he asks in a low voice.

I pretend not to hear him. Zabini might be tired of hiding out, but I don't think he'd understand if I said I was going to warn Harry Potter. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Harry**

I take a look around the alley, but the street seems to be empty. It's only a few steps to the Hog's Head, but I'm still hesitating, remembering what Ginny said. _They do seem to be spending a lot of time in Hogsmeade, don't they?_

"We might just as well stay under the Cloak," Ginny says in my ear. "It would save a lot of explaining."

It would - and it would save her running into Dennis, as well. I agree that he ought to be told what's going on, but it's Ron's place to tell him - not ours. "Stay close," I whisper, leading Ginny into the Hog's Head.

Aberforth's not in sight, but I can hear voices coming from the kitchen. Ginny and I hurry as silently as possible up the stairs.

"About time," Ron says, meeting us at the end of the passage. "What took you so long?"

It's been about five minutes, but I let it go. "What's going on?" I ask, looking curiously around the Room of Requirement. Instead of the bedroom Dennis was living in, it's transformed itself into a sort of study, complete with bookshelves. Hermione's busy scribbling something on a very long piece of parchment, but she drops her quill and jumps up when we enter.

"I know what Talitha wanted Time-Turners for," she says breathlessly. "And what she was trying to do with Arithmancy. Take a look at this!"

"This" turns out to be the parchment she was working on, but I can't make any sense of it. "Hermione, this is just a lot of numbers and symbols as far as I'm concerned," I say patiently. "I never studied Arithmancy, remember?"

"It's what we found on the cocktail napkin," Hermione explains. "It didn't make any sense to me before, because it's all wrong."

"And now you've figured out how to correct it?" I ask, but Hermione's shaking her head.

"There isn't any way to correct it," she says. "It's not going to work. But now I know what they were trying to do."

I throw Ron a desperate look. "Tell them about the Time-Turners," he says to Hermione.

"You can use Arithmancy to adjust other spells," Hermione explains, unconsciously taking on her teacher voice. "Spells like Engorging Charms or Multiplying Charms all have Arithmancical formulas built into them."

Arithmancical? Never mind, I think I get it - almost. "So if you wanted to Stun all of us at the same time, you could use a formula for that, too?" I ask. _Then why didn't anyone think of that during the Battle?_

But Hermione's shaking her head. "It doesn't work like that. Number four of the thirteen exceptions to the Standard Law of Arithmancy states that - "

"Okay, I understand," I say before she can name the other twelve. "So what about Time-Turners? Can you use Arithmancy on them?"

"In some cases," Hermione says. "For instance, if I needed to go back a whole day and didn't want to bother turning the hourglass twenty-four times, I could use Arithmancy to adjust the number of turns needed. Of course, I could also use a larger Time-Turner."

"No, you couldn't," Ginny interrupts. "We smashed them all, remember?"

"Not all of them," Ron says. "Sebastian Flint managed to track down a couple. Or maybe they've made more - it was years ago that we did that."

"So is that what Talitha was trying to do?" I ask, trying to get everyone back on track. "Speed up the Time-Turners she's got?"

"Partially," Hermione says. "But she's also trying to stop time."

I stare at her. "No one can stop time," I say. "Er, _can_ they?"

"No, of course not," Hermione says. "A wizard called Epoch Temporis thought he'd figured out a way to do it, but it didn't work."

Epoch who? I give Ron another look.

"Hermione read about him in some book she found in Professor Vector's office this afternoon," Ron explains. "That's what made her figure out what Talitha was up to. This Epoch Whatsis - "

"Temporis," Hermione says.

"Yeah, him," Ron says. "He was some genius inventor sort who lived back in Slytherin's time. He tried all sorts of ways to freeze time by using Arithmancy - only don't ask me how, because I don't understand it. Anyway, none of them worked and - and I don't know what happened to him after that." He looks questioningly at Hermione.

"No one knows," Hermione says. "He disappeared. But it was assumed that he'd lost himself in time and been unable to get back."

"And Talitha thinks _she_ can do it?" Ginny says skeptically. "How?"

"She can't, of course," Hermione answers. "It's impossible - it goes against all Magical Law. But for some reason, she thinks she can."

I sit down on the edge of a table. "Hermione?" I say. "_When_ does she want to go back to? Could you tell from the formula on that napkin?"

Hermione looks down. "May," she says softly. "Last May."

Last May… the Battle. Of course - I don't know why we didn't realize it when we first heard about the Time-Turners. And that's what they're all doing hanging about Hogsmeade and the Shrieking Shack. They want a do-over. Only this time…

"If she means to kill me before I can kill Voldemort, what has she got to freeze time for?" I ask, thinking aloud. "She could just go back and do it, couldn't she? I wouldn't be on my guard against her because I didn't know who she was until now."

Ginny throws her arms around me. "She can't," she says fiercely. "Just let her try - I'll follow _her_ back in time and kill her before she can even raise her wand to you!"

I pull her close. "You'd need a Time-Turner of your own," I say, embarrassed but pleased.

Ginny lifts her face to mine. "I waited far too long for you to let Talitha or Miranda or whatever her name is take you away from me now," she says, and I kiss her even though Ron's right there.

"Harry's right," Ron says, a little too loudly. "There'd be no need for her to stop time if that's all she wants to do. And what makes her think she can do it when no one else has ever been able to?"

"I don't know," Hermione says, sounding frustrated. "But there's something that makes her feel invulnerable. It must have something to do with that stupid _thing_ they're all on about."

Ginny pulls away from me, reaching into her pocket. "What thing?" she says innocently. "This thing?"

**Ron**

"And luckily, it was still in Mum's sewing basket," Ginny finishes. "We had to wait around for ages while she fussed over mending Harry's jacket, but we finally got out of there."

"Mum saw your hair like that?" I ask, diverted. "What'd she say?"

Ginny grins at me. "Nothing, once she found out _Harry'd_ done it and not me," she says meaningfully, and we both laugh.

Harry looks slightly uncomfortable, even though we all know he's Mum's favorite. "Anyway, this is it," he says hastily, taking a small gold object from Ginny and holding it up.

It just looks like a fancy sort of button to me, but Harry and Ginny both say Dean put it in Slytherin's portrait. Hermione takes the button from Harry and looks it over. "I wonder what it does?" she says, half to herself.

"Nothing good, if it was Slytherin's," I say. "Didn't you ever read anything about him that would tell us?" We all look at Hermione hopefully, but her face is blank.

"You said Dean saw a picture in a book," she says to Harry and Ginny. "Do you know which book?"

"I ought to," Harry says, frowning in concentration. "I had to sign it out for him because Ernie wouldn't bend the rules for a non-employee." He thinks about it for a minute. "No idea," he says apologetically. "It was big and old, that's all I remember."

"Never mind," I tell him. "That's probably all I would've remembered too." I look around the room. "There are enough books in here," I say to Hermione. "Why not have a go?" I can't believe I'm actually the one suggesting we look through books, but I can't think what else to do.

Hermione throws me an astonished look, but goes straight to the bookshelves. "Here's one called _Lives of the Founders_," she says, handing me a book that's about ten inches thick. "And here's _Hogwarts: A History_, but I know there's nothing about it in there."

Because she can recite it word for word, that's how she knows. I sit down resignedly and open _Lives of the Founders_, but Harry and Ginny are whispering to each other. "You're not getting out of this," I say to them. "Don't even try."

"There are other things we ought to be doing," Ginny says loftily. "Important things."

"Like what?" I demand.

"Like telling Robards about all this, for one," Hermione says.

"He's at Azkaban," Harry says with a shrug. "I can't get to him till he's finished with Lestrange." He doesn't look like he's very sorry about it. Neither am I - Robards would probably send me and Hermione straight home, even if we _are_ the ones who figured out what Talitha was doing. (Okay, so it was mostly Hermione. But I deserve some credit for picking out such a clever fiancée.)

"I was talking about Talitha," Ginny says. "I meant what I said before - who does she think she is? _Is_ she someone?"

"Like Voldemort's daughter or something, you mean?" I ask. I try to imagine Voldemort with a girlfriend and fail completely. I don't think he was into that sort of thing, somehow.

"Well," Ginny says, obviously coming to the same conclusion. "Maybe not _Voldemort's_, exactly. But someone's. Maybe she thinks she's a descendant of Slytherin's or something. Anyway, I think we need to find out who she is."

"Madam Pomphrey doesn't know," I say. "We asked if anyone had ever been so ill they had to leave school, and she said no."

"Well, there are records, surely?" Ginny says impatiently. "All we have to do is look at the records for the school year that started in 1981, and we'll have her name, at least."

I look at Hermione. I can't believe neither one of us managed to think of that. Neither can Hermione, judging by her expression. "Professor McGonagall would be the best one to ask," she says briskly, recovering. "Ron and I will stay here and try to find out something about Slytherin."

I look at the bookshelves and groan to myself. This could take all bloody day. "I have a better idea," I say. "As long as we're talking to the teachers, why not talk to the one who's bound to know the most about Slytherin? Only someone's going to have to come with me, because he never remembers my name." I look pointedly at Hermione, and she sighs and gets up.

"You'd better take this back," she says, handing the gold button to Harry. We all watch as he puts it carefully in the mokeskin bag around his neck.

"I wonder if Malfoy knew anything about this?" Hermione says, and Harry and Ginny exchange panicked looks.

"Bloody hell, we forgot him," Harry says guiltily. "I promised Perdita I'd find him."

"He ran away?" I say, disgusted. "Let him go."

"Ron, we can't just let him be killed," Hermione says reproachfully. "He's a human being, even if he's not a very nice one."

"We'll look for him after," I tell her. "This is more important."

Hermione gives in at that, and we slip out into the corridor.

**Draco**

Once outside, I realize I've absolutely no idea how to get back to my hiding place. I should have taken note of the street name, at least, but I was so desperate to get out of there that I never thought.

Never mind. I've just got to wait for morning, and then I can go to the Ministry and -

No, of course I can't. What the hell am I thinking? I can't go anywhere _near_ the Ministry; they'll be watching it. And I can't go home, obviously - and I don't know where Potter lives…

I stand indecisively outside the door to Zabini's cottage, half-tempted to knock on the door again. And then it comes to me. There's one place they'll never look, because they already know I'm not there.

I do another Disillusionment Charm on myself and Disapparate.

**Hermione**

"Well, if it isn't my favorite Potions student," Slughorn says, beaming at me. "And, er…" he offers Ron a strained smile. "Come to show me the progress you've made, have you?" he adds, evidently deciding to change the subject.

"Not exactly," I say. "We've come to ask you some questions, if that's all right."

"Certainly, certainly," Slughorn says, ushering us into his office. He's already reaching for glasses. "Can I offer you a drink?"

"Nothing for me," Ron says quickly. "Professor, we wanted to ask you about Salazar Slytherin."

Slughorn raises an eyebrow. "Slytherin, is it?" he remarks, pouring himself a glass of wine. "And why would two former Gryffindors be interested in him?"

Ron looks blank. "It's for an essay I'm writing about the Founders," I say quickly. "I need to write a description of Slytherin, and it occurred to me that I don't really know what he looked like. I wondered if you had a picture of him - a really _accurate_ picture."

Slughorn takes a gulp of wine, looking thoughtful. "There are plenty of portraits, naturally," he says after a minute. "But if you're looking for accuracy…" He half-closes his eyes and leans back; the buttons on his waistcoat straining with the effort. "Yes," he says after a minute. "I believe I have exactly what you're looking for. _Accio!_"

Ron ducks out of the way just in time as a large, battered book comes flying off the shelf directly behind his head.

"Ah," Slughorn says, looking pleased with himself. "Here we are, then." He opens it, and Ron and I lean forward eagerly. I try to catch a glimpse of the cover, but all I can see is a faded leather binding.

Slughorn's carefully turning the pages with his wand. "Here we are," he says again, lightly tapping the page in front of him. "Have a look at that!"

I pull the book toward me - goodness, it's dusty - and bend closer to see. The text is small and nearly illegible, but the picture…

"That's Slytherin, all right," Ron says, leaning over my shoulder. "And there's - " He breaks off in mid-sentence, but I've already seen it. The gold button - or whatever it is - is fastened to the front of Slytherin's cloak.

"Yes, it's supposed to be a very faithful likeness," Slughorn says, clearly pleased at our reactions. "It's copied from an ancient woodcutting done in Slytherin's time - vanished now, of course. The book itself dates back nearly eight hundred years - I was very fortunate to be able to get my hands on it."

I'm not entirely sure this book is as old as he says - how could a book, even a magical one, last for that long without disintegrating? - but there's no doubt it's ancient. I lean even closer, trying to make out the words on the opposite page.

"You'll find it difficult to read," Slughorn warns. "I had a go myself, but my eyes aren't what they used to be."

I could use a Magnifying Charm, I suppose, but the book is so fragile that I'm afraid I might damage it.

"You'll strain your eyes," Ron says. "At least light your wand."

Oh. Right. I pull out the wand - not _my_ wand, unfortunately, but it can manage a Lumos Charm all right - and try again.

And there it is, right in front of me. I read the faded words over again and again until I think I've got it memorized and then sit back, rubbing my eyes.

"Impossible, isn't it?" Slughorn says understandingly. "It's a shame not to be able to read it - but then again, sometimes the simple joy of possession is enough." He brightens at the thought.

"Well, I think this picture's given me what I needed," I say, getting up. "Thanks for your help, Professor."

"Not at all, not at all!" Slughorn says jovially. "And I'd like to read that essay when you've finished it."

Now I suppose I've got to write one. "Of course," I say, groaning inwardly.

**Harry**

Ginny and I pause outside the entrance to McGonagall's office.

"Any idea what the password is?" Ginny whispers hopefully, staring at the stone gargoyle blocking our way.

"None," I admit. "I'll just have to send her a Patronus." I pull out my wand, careful to keep the message short and innocuous in case she's not alone. I only hope she's in her office and not teaching a class or something.

McGonagall is in her office evidently, because a few second later the gargoyle moves aside and the spiral staircase is in front of us.

"Come on," I whisper, grabbing Ginny's hand.

McGonagall's door is open when we get to the top. "Come in, Harry," she says, looking up from something she's writing. "And - Ginny Weasley! What on earth have you done to your hair?"

"She sounds like Mum," Ginny whispers to me, stifling a giggle.

There's no need to skirt the truth here - Professor McGonagall is one person I know I can trust. "It's a disguise," I tell her. "Ginny's red hair was too noticeable."

"Was it, indeed?" McGonagall says, unruffled. "And why, may I ask, do the two of you need to go unnoticed?"

"Someone was following me yesterday," Ginny says. "We don't know why, but they may have been trying to kidnap me."

McGonagall looks at me shrewdly. "A sure way of controlling Harry Potter," she remarks, retrieving a familiar-looking tartan tin from the corner of her desk and offering it to us. "So there are still a few of them about… I rather thought there might be, even though Kingsley himself assured me that we had nothing to fear at Hogwarts this year."

"You haven't," I say, helping myself to a biscuit. "_This_ year."

McGonagall gives me a look that makes me feel like a third-year caught out of my dormitory after hours. "Explain," she says firmly.

I look around and find that all of the portraits - including Dumbledore - are wide-awake and listening intently. I take a deep breath and launch into an abbreviated version of the story. "But what does Gawain Robards think of all this?" McGonagall demands at the end. "Surely he hasn't left it all to you and Mr. Weasley - not that you aren't competent, but a situation of this magnitude - "

"He doesn't know what we found out today," I explain.

"But I'm sure you intend to go straight to him with this information," McGonagall says meaningfully.

"I will, when he gets back from Azkaban," I say. "Only I can't say anything about Ron and Hermione because Ron's not supposed to be involved anymore."

McGonagall's eyebrows go up. Ginny, thankfully, takes over the explanations this time. "He's protecting someone," McGonagall says at the end. "Dennis Creevey, most likely - no, don't tell me, please! I should prefer not to have to lie about it if I'm asked."

Ginny and I exchange astonished glances. She's all right sometimes, Professor McGonagall.

"Anyway," Ginny says, quickly changing the subject. "This Talitha person spent her first year at Hogwarts, but it looks like she didn't come back after that. And we thought there must be some sort of record - "

"Yes, of course there is," McGonagall says briskly, opening a drawer. "Which year was it?"

"1981," Dumbledore's portrait says. I look up and find him regarding us steadily. "Talitha Green - Sorted, as one might expect, into Slytherin House. You may remember her, Minerva, although she wasn't with us long. A rather… disturbed child."

"Merlin's beard, that one!" McGonagall says in a hushed voice, her hand freezing over the open drawer. "I'd nearly forgotten."

"What?" Ginny and I demand at the same time.

McGonagall sighs, closing the drawer. "It wasn't any one thing," she says slowly. "And nothing was ever proven, although even Professor Snape admitted she was almost certainly responsible for most of the things that happened that year. In the end we simply decided that Hogwarts wasn't the place for her."

I don't get it. "Did she hurt someone?" I ask. She must have done; I never heard of a first-year being expelled before.

"Not personally," McGonagall says, looking up at Dumbledore's portrait again. "Albus, perhaps you can explain this better than I can."

"She was very persuasive for an eleven-year-old," Dumbledore's portrait says musingly. "She had a way of coercing others to do her bidding. Unfortunately, she chose to use that talent to her own advantage. If anyone crossed Talitha in any way, someone else was sure to retaliate. Not Talitha herself, of course - never Talitha. But the suggestions certainly came from her, even if no one could prove it. Such a shame… she might have made a very talented witch, if only…"

"She sounds like Tom Riddle," I say, and Dumbledore's head nods slowly.

"Very much so," he says. "And in one other way, as well. Talitha is either a half-blood or a Muggle-born. Her mother was certainly a Muggle. Her father is unknown, although I rather assumed he was a wizard because Muggle-borns are almost never Sorted into Slytherin. I had hopes that we might be able to save her - but in the end, she nearly caused the deaths of two young boys. After that, the choice was clear. I was, after all, responsible for the safety of the other students…"

"You did all that you could, Albus," McGonagall says soothingly. She turns to me. "So she's up to her old tricks, it seems. You'd best be on your guard against her - all of you."

"We will," I say, getting up and holding out a hand to Ginny. "Thanks, Professor."

McGonagall follows us to the door. "Harry, if you can't reach Gawain Robards, I think you'd better go straight to Kingsley with this," she says, putting a hand on my arm.

"Robards keeps him updated, doesn't he?" I say, surprised.

"Does he?" McGonagall says skeptically. "I wouldn't count on that if I were you. Remember that Kingsley used to report to Gawain, not so very long ago."

I think about it. Andromeda Tonks said something like that to me, too. "I'll tell Kingsley everything as soon as I get back to the Ministry," I say. "But I think we're close to trapping Talitha."

"Don't make the mistake of underestimating her," McGonagall warns. "I remember what she was capable of as a child. I shudder to think of what she might do as an adult."

"I'll tell Kingsley," I repeat. "And I hate to say this, Professor, but if you've got a Hogsmeade weekend coming up - "

"It will be canceled," McGonagall assures me. "No student will leave the grounds until Talitha Green has been captured."

"Good," I say. I grin at her. "Just don't blame it on me when you give the kids the bad news."

I stop once more in the doorway, surveying the study again. Most of the portraits have gone back to sleep, but Dumbledore's painted eyes still watch me steadily. It seems like something's missing from the room, but I can't think what.

"Professor McGonagall," Ginny says, putting it into words for me. "I couldn't help noticing - there's no portrait of Professor Snape."

"No," McGonagall admits.

"Maybe there should be," I say. Dumbledore nods approvingly at me and closes his eyes. "Come on, Ginny - we'd better go."

**Ron**

Harry and Ginny aren't there when we get back to the Room of Requirement. Hermione goes straight to the bookshelves, but I've had enough for one day. "Couldn't you manage to read any of Slughorn's book?" I ask, dropping down on a chair to watch. She wouldn't say anything when we were in the corridor, but I'd thought from her expression that she'd found something out.

"I read enough to tell me that Epoch Temporis gave Slytherin that button-thing," Hermione says, turning pages rapidly. She looks over at me and recites _"The ornament pictured on the front of Slytherin's cloak is a gift from his most promising student, Epoch Temporis."_

I stare at her hopefully, waiting for more, but apparently that's it. "The rest was all about the other things he was wearing," Hermione says. "At least, I think it was. The ink was so badly faded…" She puts her book back on the shelf and reaches for another.

I get up and pace back and forth, thinking. Epoch Temporis… so maybe that button-thing has something to do with time travel. And if he was Slytherin's student… "Hey, Hermione," I say. "Maybe Slytherin was the one who got old Epoch to do all those experiments. And maybe he found something out before he disappeared, and that button he gave Slytherin - "

"Is the key to it, but I can't find him anywhere in here!" Hermione says desperately, reaching for a third book. "Do you think there's time to go to the library before Harry and Ginny get back?"

Maybe, but I'd just as soon not. "Why not just ask Harry to get that other book from Dean?" I suggest. "It's bound to be in there, isn't it?"

Hermione looks unconvinced. "Possibly, but I think we'd better keep looking as long as we're here," she says firmly.

Great. Nothing I'd rather do. I go over to the shelves (reluctantly) and start pulling likely-looking books forward. Here's one about house-elves - better not let Hermione see it, or we'll be here all bloody day. The thought of house-elves reminds me of something else; something I'd only half-remembered, and I let the book drop to my side.

"Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione asks, sounding exasperated. "Here, look through this one."

I take the book from her hand and set it on the shelf without looking at it. "Remember when you were nag - er - suggesting that we ought to do something really romantic for Valentine's Day next week?" I ask. (Not that I mind the idea, but it's been a bit difficult to plan anything what with people trying to poison us every time we go out for dinner.)

Hermione looks startled. "What has that got to do with Epoch Temporis?" she asks.

"Never mind him," I say, taking her hand. "Brace yourself, Hermione. I'm about to take you someplace that's so romantic, you'll want to throw up."

Hermione still looks worried as we approach the front door to Madam Puddifoot's. "Relax," I whisper. "No one's going to recognize us like this." We're back in our old-people disguises.

"It's mostly Hogwarts students that go here, though, isn't it?" Hermione whispers back. "Maybe we should have done younger disguises."

"Too late," I say cheerfully, opening the door. "Maybe they'll just think it's _sweet_ that we still act like a couple of teenagers even though we're in our eighties."

It's a dead-on imitation of Mum, and Hermione can't help smiling. "All the same," she whispers. "Harry - "

"We left them a note," I remind her. I look around. There's no Blaise Zabini sitting in the corner, but the rest of the place looks just as sickening as I'd remembered.

Madam Puddifoot comes hurrying out of a back room. "Here for tea?" she asks. She looks sort of surprised, but I can't tell if it's because we're so much older than her usual crowd or because it's at least an hour till tea-time.

I pat Hermione's hand and smile at Madam Puddifoot. "I wanted to take Almira here out for Valentine's Day," I say in my best old-man voice. "Haven't missed it, have we?"

"How _sweet_," Madam Puddifoot says. She sounds so much like me imitating Mum that it's all I can do to keep a straight face. "No, you haven't missed it - quite the contrary, in fact, but - well, we don't normally start serving this early, but I suppose I could make an exception. This way, please!"

The table she shows us to is covered with a hideous pink cloth. A cherub hovers overhead, waving his trumpet at us. _"Almira?"_ Hermione whispers, as soon as Madam Puddifoot's out of the way. "Right; you're Cornelius, then." The cherub swoops closer, and Hermione gives him a repressive look. "We are _not_ having any of those at our wedding," she remarks.

I couldn't agree more. This place is a walking testimonial to what not to have at your wedding if you don't want the groom to skive off before the ceremony, but Madam Puddifoot's back before I can say so. "Ready to order, dears?" she asks loudly, beaming at us.

"We'd like tea," I say, remembering to use my Cornelius voice. "And sandwiches - and some of those little cream cakes, if you have them." Hermione rolls her eyes at me when I say cream cakes, but it's the perfect way to tell if Winky's here. "Almira's always had a fondness for them, haven't you, dear?" I add, patting Hermione's hand again.

Madam Puddifoot gives us another big smile and bustles away. "I wonder where Winky is," Hermione says in a low voice.

"Kitchen, probably," I say. "After we eat I'll go have a look for her. I can always pretend to be lost if anyone catches me."

"Why not go now?" Hermione says.

I think fast. "Because Madam Puddifoot might be in there," I say - which is true, even though the real reason is that I'm starving. The way things have been going lately, I've learned to eat whenever I get the opportunity because there might not be another chance.

The cherub's back. Hermione flaps her napkin at him. "Shoo," she says. The cherub looks offended and flies off again.

"Persistent, isn't he?" I say. I reach over and take her other hand. "Hit him with a Bodybind Curse if he comes back."

"Shh," Hermione warns. "Here's our tea."

Madam Puddifoot's approaching again, this time with a fully-laden tray hovering in front of her. We wait for her to leave before speaking.

"Cream cakes," I say triumphantly, waving one at Hermione. "That proves Winky's here."

"It just proves she's got a house-elf," Hermione says, helping herself to a sandwich. "Kreacher knows how to make them, too."

I eat a cream cake thoughtfully. There's just a hint of lemon flavoring. Kreacher's are a bit more on the vanilla side. "No, these are the sort Winky makes," I say, reaching for another. "I'm positive."

"They look just the same," Hermione says. "But I suppose you're the expert."

Nice that someone thinks I'm expert at _something_ - Robards certainly doesn't. I push the thought of him away and concentrate on the food. The sooner we finish here, the sooner I can go and find Winky.

"Do you suppose Harry and Ginny were able to find out anything about Talitha?" Hermione whispers, leaning closer. "I think - oh, there's that bloody cherub again! _Stupefy!_"

The cherub drops like a stone. "You never swear," I say, grinning at her. "He must've really gotten on your nerves. Here, have a cream cake."

"Thanks," Hermione says, looking pleased with herself. "Did she leave the bill? I really think we'd better find Winky and get out of here."

"It's here, under the teapot," I say, retrieving it. I throw a few coins on the table and lean close to Hermione. "I'll go have a look," I whisper. "You stay here - but be ready to bolt if you need to."

I start slowly across the room in my best old-man shuffle. There's no one in the hall, but that door in the back probably leads to the kitchen. I glance back over my shoulder and then place my ear against the door. I can't hear any voices. I finally decide that if Madam Puddifoot's in there I can just pretend I was looking for the bathroom or something, and push the door open.

An elf looks up from the stove, startled. "Sir, is you lost?" Winky asks. "Customers is supposed to stay in the dining-room, sir!"

"Winky, it's me, Ron," I whisper. "I came here looking for you. I need to ask you - "

"Sir, you must not come here!" Winky squeaks reproachfully. "There will be trouble - sir, you must - " She breaks off in mid-sentence, looking terrified.

I turn around to see why and find Madam Puddifoot glaring at me, arms folded. "May I help you?" she says icily.

"Sorry about that," I say. "Just looking for the - "

"Out!" Madam Puddifoot snaps. "Out, this minute! And take your so-called wife with you!"

I don't wait around to argue. I hurry out of the kitchen, forgetting all about my old-man walk. Hermione's waiting by the front door, looking scared.

"Come on," I say, grabbing her arm.

"And don't come back!" Madam Puddifoot yells after us.

"I think we'd better Disapparate," Hermione says in my ear. A few seconds later we're safe inside the Hog's Head.

Aberforth looks at us without much enthusiasm. "Oh, it's _you_," he says sarcastically. "I was hoping it was _paying_ customers."

"I swear this is the last time," I say over my shoulder as Hermione drags me up the stairs. I have a feeling I just lied to him, though. 

**Draco**

I was right about no one looking for me here, but I hadn't thought about how bloody cold and dark it was going to be. I think about going upstairs and lighting a fire - assuming the chimney still works - but that would give me away. Better to stay down here where I'm hidden. And at least I've got a wand this time. If Talitha - or anyone else - comes, I'll be ready.

I sit down with my back against the wall and wait.

**Harry**

"What's taking so long?" I say, looking at my watch again. "Ron's note said they'd be back soon."

"If I know Ron, they stopped to eat somewhere," Ginny says. She pats the chair next to her. "Sit down and relax, Harry. If they're not back in fifteen minutes, we'll go look for them. Or you can call Ron in that mirror thing."

"I'd forgotten that," I admit, taking it out of my pocket. "Ron? Where are you?"

"Right here," Ron's voice says from behind me.

"Where have you been?" I demand.

"Madam Puddifoot's," Ron says. Ginny gives me a knowing look.

"Great," I say. I can't help feeling slightly annoyed, not least because I'm starving myself. "Did you go there to eat or snog?"

"Neither," Hermione says reprovingly. "We were looking for Winky."

"Winky?" I ask, startled. "Is she working there now?"

"Looked like it," Ron says. "I didn't get a chance to ask her, because Madam Puddifoot chased me out of there. And she called Hermione my _so-called wife_." He turns to grin at her. "Reckon she thought you were what Mum calls a scarlet woman?"

"No," Hermione says calmly. "I think she thought we were there under false pretences. That horrid little cherub that kept hovering - I think he was listening to our conversation. He must have heard me say Talitha's name."

I remember the cherubs all too well, but it never occurred to me that they might be there to spy on the customers. "So does that mean Madam Puddifoot is working with Talitha's lot?" I ask, confused. "Or does she think _you_ are and that's why she threw you out?"

"Dunno," Ron says, shrugging. "Madam Puddifoot fought on our side during the Battle, didn't she?"

Did she? I remember the shopkeepers of Hogsmeade coming, but I can't recall whether or not Madam Puddifoot was among them. "Anyway, Winky's scared of her," Ron offers. "I'll bet she knows something."

I'll bet she does, too. "Were you able to learn anything about Talitha?" Hermione's asking. Ginny and I fill them in, but all the while I'm thinking about Winky. Aberforth thought she'd been sent to his pub to act as a spy - but she helped Ron rescue Hermione and Malfoy…

The others are still talking about Talitha. "We need to get Winky out of there," I interrupt.

Hermione gives me an approving look. "I think you're absolutely right, Harry," she says. "Madam Puddifoot's is no place for her - and neither is the Hog's Head. She needs a really _nice_ home."

Well, yeah, but that's not exactly what I meant. "Do you think she'd come if one of us called her?" I ask, deciding now's not the time to get into it.

Ron shrugs. "Winky?" he says tentatively. Nothing happens.

Hermione, Ginny and I all try, with no better results. "Kreacher comes when Harry calls him," Ron says, exasperated.

"Kreacher belongs to me," I remind him. I catch Hermione's eye and add, "at least, that's what he thinks. Winky's a free elf."

"Winky used to work for Aberforth," Ginny says. "Do you think she'd come if he called?"

We all look at each other. "One way to find out," I say, getting up. "Let's ask him."

We find Aberforth and Dennis in the kitchen, with the remains of a meal in front of them. Dennis is plainly thrilled to see us, and hurries about fetching chairs for everyone. "You'd like some tea, wouldn't you, Harry?" he says eagerly. "And one of these muffins?"

I would, actually. I look at Aberforth.

"Go on, then," he grumbles, waving us into seats.

Dennis is still talking. "Did you catch those people who kidnapped Hermione yet?" he asks. "I'll bet they were awfully pleased with you at the Auror Office, weren't they? They probably thought Harry and Ron are the cleverest Aurors they've got!"

"We caught one of them," Ron says, choosing not to answer the second question. He gives the rest of us a warning look.

"Ooh, then there're still more of them out there!" Dennis says, visibly excited. "I'll bet you'll catch them, though. Are they still after Hermione? Are they after Ginny, too? Is that why her hair's a different color? And is that why you're holding her hand under the table, Harry?"

"That's one reason," I say, exchanging a private smile with Ginny.

Hermione leans forward and speaks directly to Aberforth. "We think Winky might have some information for us," she says. "We've tried calling her, but she won't answer. Do you think she might come if you tried?"

Aberforth, predictably, is less than pleased with the suggestion. "I just got rid of that damned house-elf," he grumbles. "Why would I want her back?"

"It's not permanent," Ginny assures him. "We just need to ask her a few questions."

Aberforth looks gloomily at his plate. "She's not to stay here, mind," he warns us.

"I'll take full responsibility for her," Hermione says. "I'm sure I can find her a place - if I'm ever allowed to go back to work."

Aberforth sighs. "Winky," he says, without much enthusiasm.

"It doesn't exactly sound like you want her," Dennis says apologetically.

_"Winky!"_ Aberforth bellows, glaring at Dennis. "Winky, come at once!"

"Tell her the windows need cleaning," Dennis says in a stage whisper.

Aberforth looks agonized, but does as he suggests. Nothing happens. "Sorry," he says, clearly relieved. "But if you ask me, you're wasting your time with that elf. Trying to get a straight answer out of any of 'em is like pulling dragon's teeth." He pours himself another cup of tea. "If you don't mind my asking, why have the lot of you been up and down my stairs a dozen times today? And why is this one's hair black?" He points a muffin accusingly at Ginny. "It looked a good deal better red, Missy!"

"I think so, too," Ginny says, unruffled. "But it's a bit noticeable."

"It's a long story," I warn.

"Aloysius, go put up the 'closed' sign," Aberforth says. "Not that it'll make any difference." He pushes his chair back from the table and glares at me. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

I take a deep breath and begin.

**Hermione**

Harry tells most of it, with the rest of us filling in the parts he's left out. Aberforth doesn't say a word till we've finished.

"Just like I said, that elf would've been a waste of time," he says at last. "Why aren't you looking for the Malfoy kid?"

The four of us look at each other, startled. Of course we've got to find Malfoy before Talitha does, but it's not as though he can help us find her - or can he?

Aberforth looks impatient. "That Talitha woman's after him for some reason," he points out. "Find him, and you might catch her. And if you can catch _her_, you won't have to bother about gold buttons and Time-Turners, will you?"

"One of the others could still use the Time-Turner," I argue, but no one's listening.

"Harry and I thought Malfoy might be with Blaise Zabini," Ginny offers. "Only we never had a chance to check it out."

Ron nods. "Zabini's definitely hiding from Talitha if he knows what's good for him," he agrees. "Only problem is, he could be just about anywhere. Do you really think Malfoy's with him?"

Somehow I don't think that's likely. I remember Zabini from the Slug Club, and he was one of the most self-centered people I've ever known. "Malfoy might have gone to Blaise Zabini," I say slowly. "But I'd be very surprised if Zabini let him stay there. He'd be too worried about saving himself."

"Good point," Ginny says ruefully. "Right, then. We know he didn't go home - and he wouldn't have gone to Diagon Alley…"

All of a sudden I know. "There are only two places he would have felt safe from Talitha," I say. "And one of them is in the Room of Requirement."

"Well, he's not there, obviously," Ron says. "So that leaves…" He looks at me. "I give up. What does it leave?"

"Think about it," I say. "The one place Talitha's not going to look for Malfoy is the one place she's sure he isn't. And the reason she knows he isn't there because she already saw him escape."

It only takes them a second. "The Shrieking Shack!" Ron says.

"Would he have the nerve?" Ginny asks doubtfully. "He's not all that brave, Malfoy."

"I think he was desperate," I say.

Harry's already on his feet, unfolding the Cloak. "Ron and Hermione, go back into Hogwarts and guard the entrance by the Willow," he directs. "I'll go round by the road and check it out from that end. Ginny - "

"I'm coming with you," Ginny says firmly.

Harry frowns. "Maybe you'd better go with Hermione and let Ron come with me," he starts, but Ron's already shaking his head.

"Hermione stays with me," he says, his tone no less firm than Ginny's.

Honestly. This is getting to be a bit much. "It's _Hogwarts_," I argue. "I'm sure I'll be - "

"It doesn't matter," Ginny assures me cheerfully. "I have every intention of going with Harry."

Harry's eyes meet mine. "Stubborn, aren't they?" he says to me.

"I think it's the red hair," I agree.

"Come on," Ron says, not listening. "We've got to get back through the passage and out into the grounds without anyone spotting us." He looks apologetically at Aberforth. "Do you mind if - "

Aberforth flaps an exasperated hand at the stairs. "Once more hardly matters," he grumbles.

"Good luck!" Dennis calls after us excitedly. "I wish I could go with you. I could be a lookout, couldn't I, Harry? You could teach me a secret signal and - "

Ron and I hurry out of the room, leaving Harry to deal with Dennis. It's beginning to get dark outside, and Disillusionment Charms are sufficient to hide us as we cross the Hogwarts grounds. Ron stops a safe distance from the Willow and pulls out his mirror. "We're here," he says into it.

I wait while he listens to Harry's reply. It's a bit annoying that only the person holding the mirror can actually hear or see anything in it, but I suppose that was the whole idea. "They're not there yet," Ron reports. He grins at me. "Sounds like they had a bit of a rough time getting rid of Dennis. Harry's going to call me when they get to the Shack."

The wind's growing colder, and I move closer to Ron. He puts his arm around me. "What are you thinking about?" he asks.

"Miranda," I say. "Talitha, I mean. It's so hard to think of her by that name. I was thinking about all the things Harry said Dumbledore's portrait told them about her. He said she was persuasive. Persuasive enough to have done some really good things, if she'd chosen to use her power that way. It's a good word for her, I think. She talked me into all sorts of things, even though I didn't realize it at the time."

"Like what?" Ron asks curiously. "Following her into that passage under the stairs?"

"Yes," I say. "And she got me to buy that strapless dress when I wasn't sure about it - "

"That," Ron says, "was using her power for good."

"And she also tried to keep me from showing my house-elf manual to Kingsley," I remind him. "We thought she was worried about Sikes losing his job, but the last thing she wanted was for anyone to interfere at the House-Elf Relocation Office."

"I think," Ron says grimly, "that she talked a lot of people into doing things."

I look away for a minute. "She was my friend," I say inadequately. "At least, I thought she was. Ron, you don't think she might be under the Imperius Curse, do you? After all, no one ever heard of her before, did they? She wasn't there during the Battle - and she wasn't one of Voldemort's Death Eaters - "

Ron sighs. "Hermione, the one thing she's _not_ is your friend," he says, pulling me closer. "And she might not have been fighting for the Death Eaters during the Battle, but she was doing a pretty good job of imitating a dead girl at the Ministry while it was going on. Voldemort may not have known who she was, but she was on their side all the same. And she's planning to stop time so she can go back and kill Harry - and us too, probably." He pats my shoulder awkwardly. "Sorry," he says after another minute.

"It's all right," I say against his shoulder. "I know she's not Imperiused. I just wish - "

"That she had been?" Ron finishes for me. I nod. Even after all that's happened, it's hard for me to believe that Miranda was setting me up from the beginning.

Ron starts to say something else, then reaches into his pocket again. I lean close to listen, even though I know I won't be able to hear.

"They're at the Shack," Ron tells me, not taking his eyes off the mirror. "Harry says it looks empty, but that doesn't mean anything."

Someone could still be hiding somewhere about, watching. "Tell him to Apparate straight into the cellar," I say. "I think that's where they'll find Malfoy."

Ron looks surprised, but relays the message. "Think we ought to go down there?" he asks, looking longingly in the direction of the Willow. "It'd only take a few minutes."

I hesitate. "Supposing someone comes?" I ask. "We shouldn't leave the entrance unprotected."

"_This_ entrance is in Hogwarts," Ron points out. "The other one's a lot more in need of protection, if you ask me."

I hadn't thought of that. None of us had. "We'll put a Shield Charm behind us," I decide, following him over to the tree. "It won't stop anyone for long, but it ought to give us enough warning."

**Draco**

I swear I didn't fall asleep - how could anyone sleep in this place? - but a sharp crack startles me into awareness. It sounded like someone Apparating. I strain my eyes in the dark, but I can't see anyone.

"Malfoy?" a voice whispers. "Malfoy, are you there?"

Bloody hell. _"Potter?"_ I say incredulously.

I see the glow of a wand, but there's no hand holding it. "Potter?" I say again; this time uncertainly.

"I'm under the Invisibility Cloak," Potter whispers.

Must he always wear that damned thing? "People are going to think you've got some sort of complex about being seen," I say crossly. "How do I know it's really you?"

"The first time I ever met you, we were both at Madam Malkin's getting our first-year robes fitted," Potter says after a minute. "You said you'd leave school if you weren't put into Slytherin."

"I'd forgotten that!" I say, startled. "I didn't know who you were."

"No," Potter says. "I didn't know who you were, either. But I thought at the time that if all of them were going to be like you…" He leaves the sentence unfinished.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demand. It sounded almost like he was insulting me, but I don't see how that could be.

"Nothing," Potter says. "Anyway, are you convinced yet?"

What? Oh, right. "Yeah, you're Potter," I say. "How'd you find me?"

"Hermione said you'd be here," Potter says calmly. "Are you ready to leave, or would you prefer to spend the night here?"

"No," I say quickly. "No, I'll leave. Only I don't want to go back to that flat by myself again. Isn't there someplace else?"

I hear someone whisper something. "Who's that?" I ask sharply.

"It's me," a voice says. "Ginny."

Great - Potter brought his girlfriend. "Nice place for a date," I say to him sarcastically.

"Shut up," Potter says calmly. "Ginny had an idea. We know where you'll be safe."

"Where?" I ask suspiciously. I don't want to go to Potter's house, either.

"I can't tell you here," Potter says. "Let's get out of this place. Come under the Cloak and we'll Dis - " He stops in mid-sentence.

"What?" I ask. I can hear Potter whispering again, but it doesn't sound like he's talking to me.

**Ron**

"I'd forgotten how narrow it gets here," I say over my shoulder to Hermione. "We're going to have to crawl through this bit."

Hermione doesn't look happy, but she's keeping up. Anyway, we're almost there.

A few minutes later we're nearly at the other entrance. "Can you see anything?" Hermione whispers.

I can, oddly. I can see the room. But that's wrong, isn't it? I shouldn't be able to see anything - Harry said the Shack was dark, and that he was Apparating straight into the cellar. So who's making a light in here?

I turn and stop Hermione as she reaches me. "Someone's there," I say into her ear.

Hermione's eyes widen. _"Muffliato,"_ she whispers; then, "Call Harry."

I ease the mirror out of my pocket. "Harry," I whisper. "Are you still in the cellar?"

I can barely see his reflection. "Yeah," he answers. "We're on our way out."

"Hang on," I warn him. "I think someone's upstairs."

Harry's voice is startled. "Upstairs? Where the hell are you?"

"Watching from the passage entrance," I say. "There's a light on."

"There wasn't one when we got here," Harry whispers, sounding apprehensive now. "I'm sure of it. Can you see anyone?"

I edge a bit closer, even though Hermione's clinging to my arm. There's a creaking noise; then I see a shadow. "Someone's definitely there," I say into the mirror. "I think there's only one of them, but I can't be sure."

"Well, there are five of us," Harry says.

Five? Oh, right - Malfoy. I'm not sure I'd count him as anything but a liability. "Are you under the trap door?" I ask.

There's a brief pause. "I am now," Harry says. "Let's count to three and then attack from both sides."

I relay the message to Hermione. She nods. "You're to stay behind me," I tell her, but I don't think she's listening. "One," I say into the mirror. "Two, three!"

The entrance is a bit tighter than I'd thought, but I manage to squeeze through just as Harry burst through the trap door. Harry goes with his usual _Expelliarmus_, while I branch out a bit with a Stunning Spell. Not that it matters, since we both miss.

"That way!" Harry says, pointing to the half-open door with his wand. I chase after him.

**Hermione**

Ginny's emerging from the trap door as Harry bursts out the front one. I don't see Malfoy anywhere. "Stay here," Ron says to me, and then he's gone after Harry.

"Who was it?" Ginny asks breathlessly.

"I couldn't see," I admit. "Just a shadow." I look past her. "What happened to Malfoy?"

"Still down there," Ginny says, disgusted. She leans over the open trap door and calls, "You can come up, now - whoever it was ran out the front door."

"You're quite sure?" Malfoy says anxiously from the cellar.

Honestly. "Let him stay there, then," I say to Ginny. I move to the door, peering out. I can't see anything in the dark, but I can hear Ron and Harry calling to each other.

"Come on," Ginny says, pushing past me.

"Ginny," I start; then give up. She's already outside. I follow, looking around carefully. It's so dark that I can't even see Ginny at first, but then I catch a glimpse of her long hair flying as she runs around the side of the Shack.

I go after her. Out of the corner of my eye I see something - a shadow? a person? - in the trees. "Ginny, be careful," I whisper. "There's someone over there."

She comes to my side, moving quickly. "See?" I whisper, pointing. She moves closer, her head turning in the direction of the trees.

I smell lemons and realize my mistake, but it's too late.

"Hello, Hermione," Miranda whispers.

I start to raise my wand, but hers is already at my throat.

**Harry**

It's hopeless in the dark. We can't see anything. "What do you reckon?" I ask Ron.

"Whoever it was probably already Disapparated," Ron points out.

True enough. "Let's get Malfoy and the girls and go back to the Room," I say resignedly. Anyway, we've found Malfoy. And he'd better stay where we put him this time, because I'll be damned if I'll go looking for him a third time.

We've come further than I'd realized - we must be a good half-mile from the Shack. Ginny comes running up to us when we're almost there. "Did you get them?" she asks breathlessly.

"Does it _look_ like we got them?" Ron says crossly. "What are you doing out here? And where's Hermione?"

"Still inside, I think," Ginny says, neatly avoiding the first question. She slips her hand into mine. "And that idiot Malfoy's still cowering in the cellar."

Ron mutters something uncomplimentary about Malfoy under his breath and takes off at a run toward the Shack.

"Do you think it was her?" Ginny asks, looking up at me. "Talitha?"

"No idea," I admit. "All I saw was a shadow."

"That's what Hermione said, too," Ginny says. "I - " She breaks off at the sight of Ron running back toward us. "I thought we'd got rid of him for a minute."

"Hang on," I say. "Something's wrong." I quicken my pace. "Ron?" I call. "What is it?"

"Hermione," Ron says, his voice tight with fear. "She's not there." He turns to Ginny. "Are you sure she didn't follow you out?"

"I don't know," Ginny says anxiously. "Maybe. But she ought to be nearby, then."

Only she isn't. The three of us search the area and the woods nearby, abandoning caution as we call to her, but Hermione's nowhere to be found. I'm grimly unsurprised, when we re-enter the Shack, to find that Malfoy, too, has disappeared.

**Draco**

Ginny Weasley can go straight to hell - and take Granger with her. They all but called me a coward, when anyone with any sense would stay out of the way. After all, _I'm_ the one that's in danger.

I hear both girls leave; then there's nothing but silence. After a minute or so my nerves get the better of me and I cautiously poke my head out the trap door. No one's there.

It's better upstairs - at least I can see what's happening. I ought to be safe enough, as long as I keep my wits about me and don't go outside. I pull myself the rest of the way through and edge into a corner, keeping my wand out.

No one comes back, but after a while I hear voices outside. I don't dare go to the door, but there's a loose board on this window. I pull it aside - carefully - and lean my head close to listen.

"Oh, keep your wand if it makes you feel better," someone's saying scornfully. I recognize the voice. It's _her_ - that Talitha girl! Only who's she talking to? I move the board another inch and put my eye to the opening.

Bloody hell - she's got her wand pointed at Granger. Granger's talking now (no surprises there; does she _ever_ shut up?) but I can't distinguish the words. Talitha's reply is clear enough, though.

"It's too late," she's saying. "We've already captured your friends. It's up to you now, Hermione. You can either come with me willingly, or you can die here."

This time I can hear Granger. They can probably hear her in Diagon Alley. "Ron!" she's yelling. "What have you done with Ron?"

"If you ever want to see him again, you'll do as I say," Talitha says sharply. "One word from me and they all die - remember that, Hermione."

Granger drops her head. "What do you want me to do?" she asks helplessly.

"Put your hand on my arm," Talitha tells her. A second later, they're gone.

I let the board fall back into place, my heart racing. Talitha's lot have captured Potter and the Weasleys - and Talitha herself has Granger. There's no one left.

Only there is. I try telling myself that I don't owe them anything, but it's no good. We've always been enemies - but they saved my life. As much as I don't want to, I'm going to have to try to save theirs. And then, with any luck, we'll be even and I'll never have to see any of them again.

**Harry**

Ron's completely lost it. It reminds me of that time in the Malfoys' cellar. "Hermione!" he yells, shoving branches aside frantically. _"Hermione!"_

I grab his arm. "She's not here," I say, trying to keep my own voice calm. "We've got to think. Whoever it was must have grabbed her and - "

"Talitha," Ron whispers. "That bitch has Hermione. I'll kill her if she hurts her; I swear I - "

"Ron, shut up!" Ginny says sharply. "Harry's right. We've got to think." She turns to me trustingly. "What should we do?"

"Robards," Ron says, before I can speak. "Send him a message at Azkaban, Harry. He'll come back for this - he has to. I don't care if he fires me."

"No," I say. "Not Robards." McGonagall was right. "Come on," I say to the two of them. "We're going to find Kingsley." 

**Hermione**

I don't recognize the neighborhood we're in, although it looks like it might be one of the poorer parts of London. It's barely past six o'clock by my watch, but the bitter cold seems to be keeping people off the streets.

"This way," Miranda says, not looking at me. She's still got me by the arm, and I follow, stumbling a little on the broken pavement.

Miranda stops at the end of the block. I'd expected an extra building to appear - something like Grimmauld Place, or the secret flat the Aurors keep, but this looks like an ordinary Muggle structure. I can just make out the numbers on the front - 607. I turn my head slightly, trying to spot a street sign, but there's nothing to be seen.

"Not one word till we're inside," Miranda hisses in my ear. Still keeping a firm grip on me, she produces a key ring with her other hand and lets us into the entryway. It's definitely a Muggle building - I can hear television sets and people's voices, and I nearly trip over a lone boot left on the floor.

Miranda leads me to the top floor - there's evidently no lift - and stops again, this time in front of a shabby door with a tarnished letter "D" attached to it. She produces the key ring again and lets us in, flipping a light switch as she does.

I look around curiously. It's a small flat - just a bedsitter, really. The place is furnished, although the battered sofa and table have seen better days, and it's quite clean except for a thin layer of dust. I wonder if Miranda could possibly live here? But somehow, it doesn't seem as though anyone's lived here for a long time.

Miranda tosses her cloak carelessly on the sofa. I can't wait any longer. "Where are Ron and Harry and Ginny?" I demand, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "What have you done with them?"

"All in good time," Miranda says coolly. "I assure you, they're perfectly safe - for now."

The intent is unmistakable. If I don't do what she wants, she'll have them killed. And yet, if I do, we'll all end up dead anyway. All I can do is play along for now and hope for an opportunity to escape.

"Tell me something," Miranda says abruptly, and I turn to face her. "Just what the hell is so special about Ron Weasley?"

It's the last thing I'd expected her to say, and I suppose my shock must register on my face, because she laughs.

"Don't look at me like that," she says. "I really want to know. You were all set to defy me the last time, but all it took was one tiny threat to your precious Ron and you came along like a lamb."

I can't believe I'm having this conversation. The whole experience is so surreal that I almost feel as though it's happening to someone else. "Of course I did," I say. My own voice sounds in my ears like someone else is speaking. "Haven't you ever been in love, Miranda?"

She laughs again, this time dismissively. "Men are all the same, you know," she says. "You'll find that out - if you live long enough."

"Ron is _nothing_ like Blaise Zabini," I say indignantly.

"Well, he's not as good-looking and he hasn't anywhere near as much gold, if that's what you mean," Miranda answers.

I forget that I'm supposed to be frightened and glare at her. "You don't know what you're talking about," I say stiffly.

Miranda shrugs. "It hardly matters. You won't be allowed to marry him if Sebastian and Dolores have their way - and they will, you know."

Dolores? Umbridge? But's she's in Azkaban. And Sebastian must be Flint… "What do you mean?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"They started it last time, but of course it got overturned once Shacklebolt came to power," Miranda explains. "Muggle-borns will only be allowed to marry other Muggle-borns - or Muggles, if they prefer. Certainly not purebloods."

I wonder about marriages that have already taken place, but decide not to ask. "Why do you care?" I say instead.

Miranda shrugs. "_I_ don't care at all," she says. "I'm a half-blood myself, you know."

"Are you?" I say carefully. "I thought you were a pureblood."

"Miranda Brooks was a pureblood," Miranda says. "But you must know by now that I'm not her."

I look back at her, startled. I hadn't expected her to admit it so quickly. Maybe she doesn't think it matters, since she's planning to kill me in the end.

"Hermione, tell me you'd already figured it out, or I'm going to be very disappointed in you," Miranda says. Her voice is almost teasing, and I wonder again at her ability to change personalities so quickly.

"I had," I say.

Miranda nods, satisfied. "And who am I?" she asks.

There's nothing to lose now. "Your proper name is Talitha Green," I say. "I don't know who your parents are."

"Were," Miranda corrects. "They're both dead. My mother, as you've no doubt surmised, was a Muggle. And my father…" she looks down for a minute, then stares straight at me, eyes blazing defiantly. "My father was Rabastan Lestrange," she says quietly. "Perhaps you've heard of him."

Whatever I'd expected, it wasn't that. "So Rodolphus," I say faintly, "is your - "

"My uncle," Miranda says. "Yes."

So she's a Lestrange. It explains a great deal - including Miranda's mood swings. _But Bellatrix was the insane one,_ I think wildly. _She's no relation…_

"Enough chit-chat," Miranda says briskly. "I remember you telling me once that Arithmancy was your favorite subject in school. So you ought to enjoy this little project." She motions for me to sit down at the table. "Here's a quill," she says. "Try and figure this out, if you can!"

I look dully at the parchment she's laid before me. Just as I'd suspected, it's a variation on the same formula we found on the cocktail napkin. "What are you trying to do?" I ask, even though I already know.

"That's not important," Miranda says. "Just work on it while I find something for us to have for dinner." She turns and begins rummaging through a cupboard in the corner.

Dinner? She actually expects me to sit here and share a meal with her? But it's better if she's off her guard. Maybe if I just act like everything's normal, I can get my wand out and -

"Oh, and just a warning," Miranda says over her shoulder. "If you try to escape or send a message to anyone, I'll have them all killed. And I'll have Ron killed _first_." Her eyes are glittering strangely. "It won't be a pretty death, Hermione," she adds. "The werewolves…they all blame him for Greyback…"

I think of Bill and shudder. "I'm not trying to escape," I answer quietly.

Miranda nods, looking oddly disappointed, and turns back to the cupboard. "There's not much here, I'm afraid," she says. "Here's a tin of soup - I suppose we could heat that up."

"Fine," I say, amazed at the calmness of my own voice. Inside I'm terrified, but something tells me that the worst thing I could possibly do is to let it show.

**Draco**

I don't believe it. There's no one here. I know it's after hours, but it's not as late as all that. And surely the Aurors ought to have people on duty round-the-clock. It's not like the bloody Broom Regulatory Control Office, is it?

I knock at Gawain Robards' office door again, but there's still no answer. I'm just turning away when someone speaks.

"Looking for Gawain?" a voice says. I nearly jump out of my skin till I realize it's only an old woman carrying what looks like a knitting bag.

"I'm afraid he's not in just now," she continues. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I don't think so," I say, looking down at the bag in her hand. There's something pink and woolly hanging over the side - whatever she's making, it's going to be absolutely hideous. "Do you know if he's coming back?"

The woman looks at me sharply, and I realize she's not as old as I'd thought. "It's Draco Malfoy, isn't it?" she says. "I've been expecting you."

She has? "Who're you?" I blurt, taking a tighter grip of my wand. What if she's one of Talitha's lot come to kill me?

She's not, though. "My name is Persimmon. I work here in the Auror Office," she answers calmly.

I remember hearing her name now. "Aren't you just a secretary?" I say, before I can stop myself. _Careful, now - it won't do to annoy her straight off, will it?_ "Sorry, I didn't mean - it's just that - "

"Quite all right," Persimmon says briskly. "Yes, I'm the Department secretary now. But I used to be an Auror - and I was an excellent one, if I do say so myself." She looks me up and down before adding, "I thought you'd be back. It's not safe out there, is it?"

"No, it's not," I admit, grateful that _someone_ at least understands how difficult all this has been for me.

Persimmon frowns thoughtfully. "You'll want a safe place for the night, I expect," she says. "I could call Perdita, but I hate to bother her just now. There's Harry, I suppose - he wouldn't mind - "

"You can't call Harry Potter," I interrupt. "_She's_ got him. She's got all of them. That's what I came to tell Robards - only he's not here."

"She?" Persimmon asks sharply.

"Talitha," I say. "I saw her kidnap Granger - and she said she'd got Potter and the Weasleys - and she took Disapparated with Granger so I don't know where any of them are, and - "

"Stop," Persimmon says calmly. "Sit down and tell it properly from the beginning."

I don't want to bloody sit down - isn't she going to _do_ anything? - but I force myself to take a deep breath and start over.

"All you know for sure is that a woman threatened Hermione Granger and Disapparated with her," Persimmon says when I've finished. "We have only her word for it that she'd taken the others. Personally, I think it's more than likely that she made it up in order to force Hermione to go along with her, but then again, the poor child isn't an Auror. It's no use expecting her to know things like that."

I stare at her. "So she hasn't got Potter and the Weasleys?" I ask blankly. Don't tell me I risked my life coming here just for Granger.

"We don't know that," Persimmon says. "But I shouldn't think it likely. You didn't notice anyone else about, did you?"

"Er - no," I say. I don't want to admit that I never went outside at all.

"Precisely," Persimmon says, looking pleased. "Now, the first thing to do is contact Harry. I'll send a nice, routine sort of message that will look totally innocent to others in the event that he has been captured."

I watch a silver bird fly from the end of her wand and disappear down the corridor. "Now what?" I ask.

"Now we wait for a response, of course," Persimmon says. "And I expect I'd better notify Gawain, but let's wait till we hear from Harry." She waves her wand at the knitting bag and opens it wide. "While we're waiting, I wish you'd hold this jumper up to yourself so I can get a proper idea of the fit," she says, handing me the pink, woolly mass. "It's for my niece - I'm afraid she's rather a _large_ girl, so you ought to be just about her size."

**Harry**

Kingsley's office is empty. I stop short, staring at it in disappointment.

"But he _always_ works late," Ron says, rattling the door handle in frustration.

Not tonight, apparently. "We'll send him a Patronus," I say encouragingly. "We'll ask him to meet us right away and - "

"Hold on, there!" a voice calls sharply. "Just what do you think you're doing?" We all jump before we recognize the figure hurrying toward us.

"Oh, it's just you, Percy," Ginny says, managing to sound both relieved and disgusted at the same time. "We're looking for Kingsley, of course. What did you think we were doing?"

"I didn't recognize you," Percy says. He lifts a strand of Ginny's hair and peers at it disapprovingly. "And no wonder. Has Mum seen - "

We don't have time for this. "Do you know where Kingsley's gone, Percy?" I interrupt. "He's usually still here at this hour."

Percy draws himself up. "As a matter of fact, I do," he says importantly. "Normally I wouldn't, of course, but now that I'm back in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, I - "

"Where is he?" Ron asks bluntly.

Percy glares at him before replying, "New York," in the same tone.

"He can't be!" Ron says frantically. "What the hell did he want to go to New York for?"

"I don't know if he _wanted_ to," Percy replies stuffily. "But certainly he felt it necessary. He's meeting with the American Minister of Magic - only they call it something else over there."

The three of us look desperately at each other. "We could still send a message," Ginny says uncertainly. "Couldn't we?"

"They aren't to be interrupted," Percy says sternly. "This is a very important meeting."

I grab Ron's arm just in time. "This is important, too," I say quickly.

"It can't be done," Percy informs me. "They've left strict instructions not to be interrupted. All messages are being held."

"Can't _anyone_ reach them?" I ask despairingly.

Ginny looks hopefully at Percy. "_You_ must know how, don't you, Perce?" she asks coaxingly. "I'm sure _your_ Department has clearance - being the most important when it comes to International things and all that."

"Well, " Percy says, obviously pleased to be asked. "As a staff member of the International Team - that's what we're calling ourselves these days; quite catchy, isn't it?- I could get in touch with him in the event of an emergency. But I'm afraid your situation doesn't qualify."

Ron pulls away from me, and this time I let him go. "The hell it doesn't," he says in a low, fierce voice. He grabs Percy by the shoulders, pinning him against the wall. "This _is_ an emergency. And you can either get Kingsley for us, or you can spend the rest of the night picking pieces of yourself off the floor."

"Really!" Percy sputters, trying to twist away.

"Go and get him," Ron says menacingly. "Now." He lets go, and Percy immediately takes several steps backwards.

"Percy," I say quickly. "Please."

Percy smoothes his robes, still looking offended. "Since _you_ asked, Harry, I'll do my best," he says, glaring at Ron.

"Tell him it's an emergency," I say.

Percy hurries off, throwing Ron an affronted look over his shoulder.

"Okay," I say briskly. "Let's hope it doesn't take him long. Now in the meantime, I think we'd better go to the Auror Department and see if Robards is back." I look sideways at Ron, and add, "Sorry."

Ron shrugs. "I don't care what he says to me anymore," he says. "I just want to find Hermione."

We're halfway down the corridor when I spot the Patronus. "That's Persimmon, isn't it?" I say to Ron. The silver bird flies straight to me.

"Harry, I'm afraid there's been a mix-up about your days off," it says in Persimmon's voice. "I can't quite remember if it was next Monday or Tuesday you'd requested. Let me know as soon as possible, won't you? I need to make out the schedule immediately."

"That's weird," I say, frowning. "I never asked for either one of them off."

"Is it Auror Code?" Ginny asks eagerly.

"Auror Code isn't that stupid," Ron says, even though it sort of is sometimes. "She's just got you mixed up with someone else, probably."

Either that, or she's sending me some sort of coded message - but if she is, I haven't the slightest idea what it means. "Maybe she's still in the office," I decide. "Come on."

I don't know if I'm more astonished to see Draco Malfoy sitting at Persimmon's desk, or by the fact that he's entirely draped in several feet of pink yarn.

**Ron**

Malfoy starts repeating his story again, but I can't listen anymore. Why didn't he do something to stop her? And why wasn't it him instead of Hermione? Talitha took both of them last time. If it hadn't been for Winky…

"Winky," I say aloud. "Winky? We need your help."

"What's he saying?" Malfoy demands, turning around to stare at me. "He sounds like he's lost it."

Ginny comes to my side. "That's brilliant, Ron," she says approvingly. "Winky! Please come!"

"Who's Winky?" Malfoy asks.

"A house-elf," Harry says briefly, before adding his voice to ours. "Winky!" He looks at me worriedly. "Maybe she _can't_ come," he says meaningfully.

Malfoy looks even more confused. "So call another one," he says. "They're all the same, aren't they?"

Hermione would light into him for that if she were here. I give him a filthy look, feeling as though at least I'm doing _something_ for her. But it's Harry who comes up with the answer.

"That's it," he whispers. "Kreacher!"

Kreacher's here almost instantly. "Master called?" he croaks, giving Persimmon a suspicious look before bowing deeply.

"We need your help, Kreacher," Harry says. "Hermione's disappeared. Do you think you can find her for us?"

"Kreacher's Miss is in danger?" Kreacher asks, seeming to grasp the situation immediately.

"Yeah," Harry says. "Don't do anything to draw attention to yourself, mind - we don't want you getting hurt. Just find out where she is and come back and tell us."

Kreacher bows again and Disapparates without another word.

"There," Persimmon says soothingly to me. "He'll find her all right, Ron - I never knew a house-elf yet that couldn't find out anything he put his mind to! Now, you sit down here and I'll make you a nice cup of tea. I expect we could all do with one."

I could do with something a lot stronger than tea, but I need to keep a clear head. I take the cup she offers me, but I can't seem to swallow anything.

"Now, I imagine there's quite a bit more to this story than the bit Draco's told me so far," Persimmon says briskly, handing round cups. "Supposing you fill me in while we wait for your house-elf to come back."

Harry stands up suddenly. "You tell her," he says to me and Ginny. "I've just thought of something. I need to catch Dean before he leaves."

Dean? Oh, right - that book. It seems like weeks ago instead of just a few hours. Ginny starts to follow Harry, but he motions her back into her chair. "Stay with Ron," he says in a low voice.

I don't need anyone to stay with me - I'm all right. I start to say so, but Harry's already gone. "We went looking for Malfoy," Ginny's saying to Persimmon. "It was Hermione who figured out where he'd gone."

**Hermione**

"Now," Miranda says, when we've finished our rather silent meal. "I expect you'll want to get started." She nods meaningfully at the parchment beside me. "Is there anything you need? Ink? More parchment?"

"I could use an Arithmancy book, if you've got one," I say. I can't believe I'm actually agreeing to work on this, but what else can I do?

Miranda waves her hand carelessly at a bookcase. "I've got dozens," she says. "Help yourself."

I glance sideways at her before making my way to the bookcase, but she's not looking at me at all. She's staring into space, frowning slightly. I turn my attention to the shelves and find that she's got a collection of Arithmancy books that rivals Professor Vector's. I select several at random and stack them up on the table in front of me.

"You go right ahead and work," Miranda says, smiling at me serenely. "I'll just sit here and be quiet so you can concentrate."

Right - because this atmosphere is _so_ conducive to studying. I suppose it doesn't matter, since the problem's impossible. Miranda herself must have realized that, if she's read all these books. She's done quite well with the Time-Turner bit, although it looks like she's accidentally put herself at Hogwarts the day before the Battle.

Wait. The day _before_ the Battle?

Miranda leans over to see what I'm doing. "You needn't bother about _that_ bit," she says sharply, pulling the parchment away from me. "I have it all worked out. It's _this_ that I want you to fix." She tears the paper in two, handing me the bottom half.

So she thinks she's got it right, does she? I have absolutely no intention of telling her she's wrong. If she gets there a day early, that buys us a little time, doesn't it? Or it would have, if we'd known about her last year. If only there were some way of warning our past selves.

But there is. I've done it before. I could do something - grab her arm at the last minute and force her to take me along. And then all I have to do is keep out of sight, until I can get Harry alone and warn him. Let her go back, then. When she does, I'll go with her. If I'm still alive…

Miranda watches me intently for a long time, while I do my best to pretend I'm working on her problem. "You understand what I want you to do?" she says abruptly.

I set the quill down and meet her eyes. "You want to stop time," I say. "It's not possible, Miranda. It goes against all magical law. Enoch Temporis - "

"Stop calling me Miranda!" she interrupts. "You know my name."

"Talitha, then," I say obediently. It's not hard to call her that anymore. Miranda - the Miranda I thought I knew - never existed.

"And if you know about Epoch Temporis, you know that he found a way around things," Talitha says, not heeding.

I was right, then. That button-thing of Slytherin's… _"a gift from his most promising student…"_

"I didn't know that," I say, truthfully enough. "How did you find out? Is it in one of these books?"

Talitha laughs scornfully. "One of _those_?" she says. "Hardly."

"Tell me, then," I persist. "If I'm going to help you, I need as much information as possible."

Talitha eyes me. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you!" she says shrilly. "I'm not telling you any more, Hermione. You'll just have to figure it out for yourself." She gets up suddenly. "I fancy a glass of wine," she says, in one of her abrupt changes of mood. "You'd like one, wouldn't you, Hermione? It'll help you relax."

There's not enough alcohol in the world to do that right now. But I don't want to set her off again by declining. "All right," I say quietly. I'll just pretend to drink it.

Talitha looks pleased. "It's Muggle wine," she says, setting a glass down in front of me. "But it's not bad."

"I'm used to Muggle food and drink," I remind her.

"Well, so am I!" Talitha says, smiling widely at me. "My own mother was a Muggle. I never knew I was a witch till I got my Hogwarts letter."

Maybe if I can get her talking… "I didn't, either," I say, forcing myself to smile at her. "Rather a shock, wasn't it?"

"_I_ wasn't shocked," Talitha says. "I always knew I was special. And my mother wasn't particularly surprised, either. If you ask me, she always knew there was something a bit off about my father."

"You never knew him?" I ask carefully.

Talitha shakes her head. "I knew his name, of course," she says. "Mum kept a few of his letters - I found them in her things when I was about nine. I went looking for him - later - but by then it was too late. He was already dead." She takes a sip of wine, closing her eyes for a moment. "He never knew about me," she says. "Mum said she told him, but she couldn't have. I'm sure he'd have wanted to know me."

Despite myself, I feel a twinge of pity. "I'm sure he would," I say.

Talitha opens her eyes wide. "Especially since he never had any other children," she says. "I'm his only heir, you know. Everything he had belongs to me now."

Everything he had? But the Lestranges lost all their money - didn't they?

Talitha's watching me. "There are more important things than gold, Hermione," she says mockingly. "I shouldn't have to tell _you_ that - you're in love with a Weasley, after all!"

Honestly. "What did he leave you, then?" I ask coldly.

"Don't you know?" Talitha asks.

Yes. "No," I lie smoothly. "How on earth would I know?" I look at her sideways, testing her. "Maybe he didn't leave you anything at all," I say craftily.

"He did!" Talitha corrects me. Her voice is shaking with anger. "It was his - and now, by rights, it belongs to me."

I raise my eyebrows. "Whatever it is, it sounds to me like you haven't got it," I say, managing to sound bored. Talitha looks away furiously. "Who took it, Talitha?" I ask, lowering my voice. "Rodolphus?"

She nods, still not looking at me. "He said he gave it to his stupid nephew for safekeeping," she says. "Draco was supposed to give it to me. Only he didn't! Rodolphus tried to tell me he must have lost it, but I questioned him myself and it was obvious the little fool hadn't a clue."

The pieces are starting to come together now. "It sounds to me like Rodolphus tried to double-cross you," I agree. "But I don't know what you can do about it now. He's in Azkaban, after all."

A slow smile spreads over Talitha's face. "Yes," she says softly. "He's in Azkaban. He thinks he's safe from me there. Only he's not. Before this is over, Rodolphus will be begging for an easy death." She giggles suddenly. "I don't think he'd stand up to torture very well, do you, Hermione?"

I can't do this anymore. "These books aren't helping," I say abruptly, pushing back from the table. "I'd better see what else you've got over there."

"What about Ron?" Talitha continues relentlessly. "Do you suppose he'd be able to handle being tortured?"

Oh dear. Ron doesn't even handle mild discomfort very well. I grit my teeth and ignore her. I'm pretending to look at _Arithmancy for Experts_ when the thought occurs to me. There is a way I can get in touch with other people without sending a Patronus. If I can't get a message to Ron, at least I can let him know I'm alive. And hopefully, he's alive himself to do the same for me.

**Harry**

I find Dean, as I'd hoped, putting a few final touches on his mural. I look again at Slytherin's wizened face; at the gold ornament winking at me from his cloak. You cause a lot of trouble for someone who's been dead for over a thousand years, I say to him silently. Slytherin's painted eyes look coldly past me, uncaring.

"Harry!" Dean says, looking round. "Come for one more look?"

"It's brilliant," I assure him. "Kingsley's going to be really pleased."

"The dragon's next," Dean says happily, waving a brush at the far wall. "Sure you don't want to be in that one, Harry? I could do a Hungarian Horntail, like the one you got the golden egg from."

"Paint one of Krum instead," I tell him. "He likes having people look at him." I glance around before speaking again, but no one's there. "Could I have a look at that book?" I ask, lowering my voice. "You know, the one we got from Magical Records?"

"_That_ book," Dean says, looking disgusted. "Ernie came and got it hours ago. Said as long as I was done with my mural, there was no need for me to keep it anymore." He grins at me. "I think he was just afraid I'd get paint on it."

I glance at my watch. Magical Records is probably closed by now. "I wasn't really finished with it," Dean adds crossly. "There was a seriously good picture of Gryffindor taming a dragon. But Ernie… I'll tell you, Harry, he's as bad as old Pince at Hogwarts. Remember how she hated to see anyone touch a library book?"

"If you weren't finished, we'll have to get it back for you," I say lightly. I pull out my wand.

"You didn't have to send for him _now_," Dean protests, watching the silver stag gallop away. "Tomorrow would have done."

"No," I say. "It wouldn't." I make a quick decision. "I need to see that book right away. And when Ernie gets here, I'm going to need his help as well as yours."

**Ron**

I can't stand this. I can't just sit here when anything could be happening to Hermione. "I'm going back to the Shrieking Shack," I say abruptly, getting to my feet. "We might have missed a clue."

"You're not," Ginny says instantly. "Don't be stupid, Ron. They could still be hanging about."

I don't care if they are. I'm about to say so when I feel the Galleon in my pocket glowing hot. If this is bloody Ernie nattering on about Sebastian Flint running down the stairs or something…

Only it's not. "Hermione," I whisper, staring at the glowing "H.G." on the front of the coin. I pull out my wand and tap her initials, letting her know I've gotten the message.

"What's that?" Malfoy asks, craning his neck.

I ignore him. "She's alive," I say to Persimmon and Ginny.

Ginny leans over my shoulder to see. "I don't suppose she can tell you where she is?" she asks hopefully.

"No," I admit. "The coins don't do much except let us know someone wants to talk to us."

"I remember _those_," Malfoy says with a sneer. "Don't tell me you're still using them?"

He borrowed the idea himself, if I remember right, but I can't be bothered with him right now. Ginny clutches my arm. "You know what this means?" she asks, looking puzzled. "It means she's still got a wand. Unless your ones worked differently than ours."

"No, they were the same," I say, frowning. I don't get it either. If she's got a wand, why can't she send a Patronus? Or bloody Disapparate, for that matter? Still, I feel a bit better knowing she's got the means to defend herself. "I'm going to find Harry," I say, starting for the door.

"I'm coming with you," Ginny says.

I know I ought to tell her to stay with Persimmon and Malfoy, but since when did she ever listen to me anyway? The only one she listens to is Harry. "Fine," I say. I turn back. "Persimmon? Sorry about sticking you with - you know - "

Malfoy glowers at me. "It's quite all right," Persimmon says, unruffled. "Draco and I will have a lovely chat, won't we, Draco?"

Malfoy looks petrified. "Er," he says.

I don't wait to hear what else he's got to say. I hurry down the corridor, Ginny half-running to keep up with me. "He was going to the Ministry Café, wasn't he?" she says breathlessly. "Would it be faster to take the stairs?"

I'm not going anywhere near those bloody stairs. Nothing but trouble, that's what they are. "No," I say shortly.

"You might slow down," Ginny complains as we near the Café entrance. "My legs aren't as long as - good, Harry's still here."

Harry looks over at us. "I was just going to send for you," he says. "I thought - "

"Harry, she's alive!" I interrupt. "Hermione - she sent me a message on the Galleon."

It only takes Harry a second. "Then she's got a wand," he says, puzzled. "Why would- "

"I dunno," I say impatiently. "Maybe she's being watched. Anyway, she's alive!"

Harry nods. "She's alive," he repeats. "And she's got a wand - and Kreacher's looking for her."

"Who's Kreacher?" Dean asks. I look over, noticing him and Ernie for the first time.

"He's my house-elf," Harry explains. "Sort of." He turns back to me and Ginny. "We can't reach Kingsley," he says. "We can't reach Robards. There's no one left but us." He waves his hand at Ernie and Dean. "_All_ of us."

Ginny's already nodding. "I think you're quite right," she says decisively. "Let's send for the others. Neville and Hannah, Susan…"

"I've just done it," Harry says. "They'll all be here soon."

I look at him blankly. "Then what?" I ask. I can't seem to think past finding Hermione.

"Then - " Harry starts, but he's interrupted by the door opening.

"You called us, Harry?" Terry Boot says. Michael Corner's right behind him - and so are Seamus and Lavender and Parvati.

Harry raises his voice. "Let's wait till everyone gets here," he says. "And then I'll explain."

**Harry**

I haven't given much thought to what I'm going to say, and the explanation I offer is a bit confused. Luckily, everyone seems to grasp the most important points - that Hermione's missing, and that Talitha (Miranda from the House-Elf Office to many of them) is responsible. Within minutes, it's all arranged. One group, led by Neville, is going back to the Shrieking Shack to check for clues. Another smaller group, led by Ernie, is going to search through Magical Records for any references to Slytherin and time travel. And Ernie's promised to do a second, very special errand for me - even though he's clearly petrified at the idea of breaking into his boss's office.

"But what are we looking for?" Susan asks, frowning. "Just - anything?"

"Whatever you can find," I tell her. "Particularly anything that sounds like it could be that." I touch my wand lightly to the painted ornament in the mural."

"That's seriously good, Dean," Michael says. "But aren't you going to do one of Harry?"

"No," I say, before Dean can answer. "Now, you lot that are going to the Shack - mind you're very careful. There might still be a few of them about."

"Them," Terry repeats. "Is Adrian Pucey one of _them_?"

"Probably," I tell him. I look at Susan. "And so's Evelinda Snodgrass."

"Good," Susan says coolly. "I hope she goes to Azkaban. It's much nicer in Muggle Relations when she's not around."

Ginny slips her arm into mine. "What about us, Harry?" she asks. "Me and Ron?"

"I want you two with me," I tell her. Kreacher's going to bring his news straight to me, and it wouldn't be fair to have Ron anywhere else. As for Ginny - much as I'd like to ship her off to wait with Persimmon, I know she'd never do it. Anyway, she's earned the right to be here. She's a better fighter than most of them - and they're all good.

"And where are we going?" Ginny asks.

"The Hog's Head," I say. "That's going to be our base." Poor Aberforth - but he never does any business these days anyway. I look around. "Everyone ready? Then let's go."

**Draco**

I'd almost rather be captured by Talitha than have to try on this hideous jumper again, but there's no help for it. A whole half-hour goes by with no sign of Potter or the Weasleys.

"They're not coming back, you know," I say to Persimmon.

"Possibly not," she answers matter-of-factly. "But Harry will keep me informed if there's anything we need to do. Hmm, that left sleeve looks a bit short, doesn't it? Hold up the other one for me, will you?"

I hold it up, grateful that Blaise Zabini can't see me now. I'd never hear the end of it.

Not that it's much better to be seen wearing the pink jumper in front of Potter and Weasley - which naturally I'm doing when they come bursting through the door a few minutes later.

"Persimmon, we're going to try and track down Hermione," Potter says. He scarcely bothers to glance at me, although Weasley gives me one astonished look before turning away. "I think we'd better set up some sort of signal. And I've sent for Kingsley - I need you to give him a message for me when he comes back."

The three of them move a few steps away, and I see Potter do that muffling charm thing so I can't hear them. Like I'd have anyone to tell, even if I wanted to. It comes as rather a shock to me that I _don't_ want to. I'm not sure exactly when I started being on Potter's side. Or maybe I just don't want Talitha to win.

"That's a _lovely_ color on you," Ginny Weasley says in my ear. I hadn't seen her come in.

"This wouldn't be a lovely color on anyone," I say. "Except maybe a newborn piglet."

Ginny giggles, looking surprised. I'm a bit surprised myself - I hadn't meant to make her laugh.

The smile dies on my face as Potter turns to me. "Right," he says, beckoning. "We're going to need you, Malfoy."

"What?" I say, startled. "I'll just stay here with Persimmon." I don't know what he's up to, but if it's got anything to do with Talitha and the Shrieking Shack, he can bloody well count me out.

"No, you won't," Weasley says. "You let Talitha take Hermione without trying to stop her. Now you can help us get her back." He takes a few steps in my direction, and I move quickly behind Persimmon's desk. Bloody Weasley - just because he's bigger than I am, it doesn't mean he can push me around.

"We need your help," Potter says to me, his eyes holding mine. I want to look away, but I can't.

I don't know what comes over me, but suddenly I hear myself saying "What do you want me to do?"

Potter grins at me. "We want you to be bait," he says. "But there's nothing to worry about - we'll all be right there."

"Bait" doesn't sound very safe, somehow. "Right," I say. "Nothing to worry about. When have I heard _that_ before?"

Potter laughs. "Come on," he says. "We're using the Cloak."

**Hermione**

He's alive. I clutch the coin tightly in my hand, closing my eyes in relief.

"Not falling asleep, are you?" Talitha asks loudly.

Hardly. "No," I say, slipping the coin into my pocket and picking up the quill again. It's so hard to concentrate with her hovering over me like that.

"Is there someone else here?" I finally ask. I hadn't meant to say anything, but my nerves are getting the best of me. I could swear I'm being watched, but every time I turn around, there's no one there.

"Here?" Talitha asks, looking startled. "No. Why?"

"I just wondered," I say. It's probably just my imagination - although if one of Talitha's followers is helping her guard me, she'd hardly be likely to admit it.

Talitha's getting more and more impatient. She paces back and forth, muttering to herself while I pretend to work.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" she snaps, leaning over my shoulder.

"I told you," I say patiently. "Stopping time not only goes against Magical Law, it also goes against Muggle Law. It's _physics_, Talitha. You can go back in time, if you've got a Time-Turner, and you can come back to where you were the same way. But you can't just make it stop. About the best you could do is cast some sort of Freezing Charm to make the motion around you stop, but time itself would keep - "

"Stop," Talitha commands. "Say that last bit again. A Freezing Charm?"

I shrug helplessly. "Not _exactly_ a Freezing Charm," I say. "It's not nearly powerful enough - but something like that."

"So that's what he meant," Talitha says softly. Her eyes light up and she laughs suddenly, hugging herself with glee. "I've done it! I've figured it out!"

"What?" I ask, suddenly afraid of the answer. If she doesn't need me anymore, will she kill me now? I've still got my wand, though. Surreptiously I reach down, taking a tighter grip of it.

Talitha's ignoring me. "I've figured it out!" she carols, spinning in the middle of the room. Suddenly she stops.

"Only I haven't got it," she says despairingly. "It's what makes it work, and I haven't got it. Bloody Rodolphus - I'll kill him!"

There's a sharp rapping noise from the direction of the window. Talitha and I look at each other, startled.

"You stay here," she warns me in a low, menacing voice. "Not one sound, Hermione - or you know what'll happen to your boyfriend!"

I watch, not daring to move, as Talitha approaches the window with her wand drawn. She relaxes suddenly. "Just an owl," she says, half-laughing. She starts back to me, unfolding the letter as she walks. "Do you suppose it's a love letter from Ron, Hermione? Only I don't suppose he's in any position to _write_ just now, is he? He's - "

The mocking words stop abruptly as she reads. "I have to go out," she says, surprising me. She turns in a swift motion, grabbing her cloak from the sofa. "You stay right there," she commands, glaring at me. "And don't you dare try to send a message. I've got people watching the flat, and they have strict orders to kill Ron immediately if you make a wrong move."

I was right, then. She's got someone else in here with her. "I won't move," I promise quickly. "I'll stay right here and work on your problem."

Talitha looks amused. "You do that," she says. "I'll be back soon - and then… well, _then,_ Hermione, I think we'll be ready to get started!" Her face changes as she gives me a mock-sympathetic look. "Only you won't be coming with me, will you?"

"Talitha, wait," I say desperately. "I know what you're trying to do, but can't you see how wrong it would be? Did you even _know_ Voldemort? He's evil - _truly_ evil - and being Lestrange's daughter won't necessarily mean you're safe from him!"

Talitha looks at me blankly. "Voldemort?" she says, like she's never heard the name before. Suddenly she's amused again. "You _do_ make me laugh, Hermione," she says, almost fondly. "I believe I'm going to miss you." She turns away, opening the door. "Not a word or a sound!" she warns over her shoulder.

I wait for the door to close behind her before pulling the quill and fresh parchment toward me. I can't send a Patronus, but maybe I can get a message out somehow. Maybe someone can stop her before it's too late. The only thing that comforts me is the knowledge that she can't accomplish any of this without Slytherin's ornament - which as far as I know is still safe in the mokeskin bag around Harry's neck. But for how long? How long will it be before one of his kidnappers discovers it?

I'm just rolling up the parchment when I have the sensation of being watched again. "Who's there?" I say sharply. Even if it's someone horrible like Zabini, I'd rather know for sure.

But it's not Zabini. It's… _"Kreacher?"_ I say, feeling completely stunned. "Kreacher, is that really you? How on earth did you find me?"

"Kreacher's master told him to find Miss," Kreacher answers. "And Kreacher's master said Miss is in danger and Kreacher must stay hidden, and so Kreacher has. But now the bad witch has gone, and Kreacher can take his Miss away!" He nods, looking satisfied.

I can't have heard him properly. "_Harry_ told you to come and find me?" I repeat. "Where was he? And where's Ron?"

"At the Ministry of Magic, Miss," Kreacher explains. "Kreacher's master was there with Miss Ginny, and Miss's Wheezy was there, too, Miss."

Ron? Ron's been at the Ministry this whole time? "They're all safe?" I manage. "All of them?"

"Yes, Miss," Kreacher replies, looking surprised at my question. "It is Miss who was in danger. But now Kreacher has come to fetch her."

She lied to me. She never had them at all. Ron's been safe all along - and probably worried to death about me. And all the time I could have escaped, if I'd only known. "That _bitch_!" I say furiously, then blush. "Excuse me, Kreacher."

"Kreacher has heard worse, Miss," Kreacher says calmly. "Master Sirius, in his day… but never mind, Miss! We had best be going." 


	24. Chapter 24

**Harry**

"Back again, are you?" Aberforth grumbles, scarcely bothering to look up from the glass he's polishing. "Took you long enough."

"He was worried about us," Ginny whispers. "I think that's sweet."

So do I - well, not _sweet_, exactly - but rather nice, all the same. "We had a bit of a rough time," I say. I do a quick _Muffliato_, even though the pub - as always - is empty.

Aberforth finally deigns to look up. "Well, you got _him_ back," he grunts, pointing at Malfoy. "But we're missing one, aren't we? Where's your girlfriend, Weasley?"

"Talitha kidnapped her again," I answer, seeing that Ron's incapable of explaining. "But we know she's alive, and she seems to have a wand."

Aberforth looks sideways at Ron. "Boy's white as a sheet," he says in a low voice. "Reckon I ought to give him a drink?"

I'm about to answer when a silver boar appears in midair. "Harry, we're in the alley outside," it says in Ernie's voice. "All right to come in?"

I hurry over to the door. "Keep Den - er, Aloysius out of the way!" I hear Ginny whispering frantically to Aberforth. Good idea - it's not likely anyone would recognize him, but it doesn't hurt to be careful.

"Come in, quick," I tell the three outside. "Anyone see you?"

"No one," Susan says, looking around curiously. "It looks - er - _different_ in here."

Aberforth looks pleased. "I took Hermione's advice and hung some curtains," he says, gesturing proudly at the filthy rags covering the windows. "Dresses the whole place up, doesn't it?"

Susan's saved from answering by Michael, who steps forward hurriedly. "Harry, we think we've got it," he says, pulling open his cloak to show me a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. "It's seriously old, but you can still read it if you look closely enough."

He sets the parcel on a table, and we all lean in closely as the wrappings fall away. "It's a rock," Ginny says blankly.

"It's not a rock," Michael corrects her. "It's a tablet. And there's carving on the side - see?"

I pick up the rock - sorry, the _tablet_ - and hold it close to my face. "I can see the carving," I say, excited. "Only what the hell does it mean?"

"It's in Ancient Runes," Michael explains. "It's a sort of poem. What's wrong, can't you see it?"

I look at him, exasperated. "Ernie and I can't read them either," Susan says. "We told you, only the Ravenclaws ever take that class, Michael!"

"Hermione was in my class," Michael says defensively. He immediately looks guilty; then relieved when he sees Ron's not there.

"Michael," I say patiently. "What does it say?"

Michael takes the tablet from me and clears his throat. _"The sands of time shift constantly,"_ he reads. _"Is there no way to still them? The serpent's golden orb holds the secret."_

"Not much of a rhyme, is it?" Ginny says irrepressibly. "I thought you said it was a poem."

"It rhymes if you say it in Ancient Runes," Michael says. "Sort of. I wasn't sure about this symbol here." He points, but it's a meaningless squiggle as far as I'm concerned. "The literal translation is 'orb', but it could also mean a circle or a globe."

I know what it is. I unconsciously put my hand to the mokeskin bag at my throat.

"And the serpent must mean Slytherin, of course," Susan adds. "That's what made us sure it was what you were looking for - well, that and the bit about time shifting." She looks at me anxiously. "I've brought a few other books just in case."

"No, this is it," I say, picking up the tablet again. "Thanks, all of you - that was brilliant."

Michael's eyes narrow. "The golden orb is that thing in Dean's painting, isn't it?" he says. "What's it do, then? It sounds as though it might work rather like a Time-Turner."

I'd forgotten how clever he is. "Close," I say, watching him.

_"Is there no way to stop them?"_ Michael repeats slowly. He looks at me, confused. "It _can't_," he says flatly. "It goes against all magical law."

"Yeah," I say with a sigh. "That's about where we'd got with it, too." I catch Ernie's eye and motion him into a corner. "Did you find it?" I ask.

Ernie nods reluctantly. "I could lose my job for this," he says, looking worried.

"Ernie, if we don't stop her, you're not going to _need_ a job," I say impatiently. "Because anyone who supported me in the Battle is either going to be dead or in Azkaban."

Ernie looks struck by this thought. "Here, then," he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a tiny golden hourglass. "He had at least a dozen locked up in his desk, but I didn't dare to take more than one."

"Thanks," I say, adding the Time-Turner to the collection in my mokeskin bag. "Come on, let's see if there's anything we can use in any of those books."

Ernie's hesitating. "Harry?" he asks. "You're really going to do it, then? Go back to the Battle?"

"Only if I have to," I say. "Let's hope we can catch her first."

I withdraw to a far corner of the room, still holding the tablet. What I said to Ernie was true. I'll go back if I have to - but I really hope it's not going to be necessary. I can't watch them all die again…

"Master," Kreacher says from beside me, and I jump. I hadn't heard him come in.

"Kreacher, did you find her?" I ask anxiously. "Is she all right?"

"Miss is in the kitchen with her Wheezy," Kreacjer says, beaming fondly. "Quite all right, she is, sir - no, Harry Potter!" He puts up a hand to forestall me as I jump to my feet. "Kreacher has promised Miss a few undisturbed minutes, sir!"

I really need to talk to Hermione, but Kreacher has a very determined look on his face. I remember Lucius Malfoy being blasted off his feet by Dobby and hesitate. "Kreacher," I start, but he's waving something in my face.

"Miss has written this for Harry Potter to read," he says, handing me a roll of parchment. "Miss says it will answer all of Harry Potter's questions, sir!"

_Only Hermione,_ I think, taking the roll. "You've done really well, Kreacher," I say.

Kreacher bows. "Is Kreacher to return home now, Master?" he asks.

"Not yet," I say. "I need you to go and tell Persimmon - you know, the witch you saw us with at the Ministry - that Hermione's safe. Only her, mind - don't let anyone else hear you!"

"Kreacher will be careful, sir," Kreacher promises.

"And there's just one more thing after that," I say. "Do you remember a house-elf called Winky at Hogwarts?"

Kreacher's expression says that he doesn't remember anything that's to Winky's credit. "Kreacher knew Winky, Master," he says carefully. "Very fond of butterbeer she was, sir!"

"She doesn't drink it anymore," I assure him, realizing as I say it that Winky's shown no signs of relapsing into her former habit. I wonder why - but never mind. "I think she may be in trouble, Kreacher. Could you have a word with - " I hesitate, realizing I don't know how house-elves socialize with each other. Have they got their own pubs or something? "With any other house-elves who might know where she is?" I finish lamely.

"Kreacher will try, sir," Kreacher says, looking doubtful.

"Thanks, Kreacher," I say gratefully. "You've been brilliant tonight!"

Kreacher bows again and vanishes. I look after him blankly for a moment and then turn my attention to the roll of parchment in my hand. What I read makes me forget all about Winky. I hurry over to the table by the fire where the others are all immersed in the books from Magical Records. They're going to want to hear this.

**Ron**

I know I should care about whatever books Ernie and the others have brought back from Magical Records, but I don't. Books only remind me of Hermione, and I can't sit down and look at one when I know she's still out there somewhere.

Ginny's warning about Dennis gives me the excuse I need to slip out of the room. "I'll go," I say to her, heading quickly for the kitchen.

Dennis is studying something - Herbology, looks like - but he lets the book fall to the floor when he sees me. "Ron, you're back!" he says excitedly. "Did you find Malfoy? What happened? I wish I could have come with you, but Ab said I'd just be in the way."

"You might have been kidnapped," I say. "Hermione was." Somehow it's easier saying it to Dennis.

Dennis's eyes are round. "Hermione?" he whispers. "Oh, no! What happened?"

I tell him as briefly as possible.

"But she's alive," Dennis says comfortingly, when I've finished. "And Harry's house-elf will find her. You know they can always find anyone. Didn't Dobby find all of you that time? Ab told me that story."

"Yeah," I say, not wanting to go there. It's the worst I've ever felt in my whole life - listening to Hermione scream and not being able to help her. And Talitha could be doing the same thing to her right now…

"You'd better have a cup of tea," Dennis says, looking me over. I guess I must look pretty bad, because he adds, "And something to eat, as well. Will I make you a sandwich?" He starts opening cupboards without waiting for an answer, and I let him do it. At least it keeps him out of the pub.

"By the way, you'd better stay in here," I tell him. "Some people from our year at Hogwarts are here, and they might recognize you."

"I doubt it," Dennis says, matter-of-factly, handing me a cup of tea. "I'm in disguise - and I was two years behind you at school. But I'll stay in here if it makes you feel better." He starts to say something else, but I'm not listening anymore. I'm staring at something that's just appeared past his shoulder.

"Hermione," I whisper unbelievingly.

"What?" Dennis says, looking round. "Ron, you've dropped your cup!"

I'm vaguely aware of stepping on broken china as I make my way blindly across the room, but I don't care. "Hermione," I whisper again, pulling her into my arms.

"Hermione!" Dennis echoes, startled. "How'd you get here? I thought you were kidnapped!"

"I was," Hermione says, lifting her head from my shoulder. "Kreacher rescued me."

I'll have to thank Kreacher - and I need to find out what happened - but all of that can wait. "Dennis, get out," I say, pulling Hermione even closer. I'm never letting go of her again if I can help it.

"You just told me to stay here," Dennis protests.

Neither one of us answers him - we're a bit preoccupied, actually - and when I look up after several minutes I see that he's left the room.

"What happened?" I ask finally. "Malfoy said he saw Talitha take you, and that she told you she'd already captured the rest of us." I look at her anxiously. "You're all right, aren't you? She didn't hurt you?"

"I'm fine," Hermione says. "I had my wand the whole time - I just didn't dare to use it. I - she - oh, let's sit down. It's a long story. Is that tea?"

"It was," I say, pointing my wand at the shattered remains on the floor. _"Reparo!"_

We settle at the table with fresh cups. "Move your chair a bit closer to mine," Hermione says to me, and I reach out and pull her onto my lap.

"Much better," Hermione says, nestling. "Anyway - Talitha. I only went with her because she said she'd kill the rest of you if I didn't - she was quite horrible about it, actually - and so she took me to a Muggle flat - "

"What Muggle flat?" I interrupt. "Could you tell where you were?" I remember guiltily that a few other people have a stake in this as well, and add, "Maybe we ought to fetch Harry in."

"No need," Hermione says calmly. "I wrote down everything that happened and told Kreacher to give the parchment to Harry as soon as we got here. He's probably reading it right now."

Thinks of everything, doesn't she? I can't help being relieved that I haven't got to share her with anyone else right now - even Harry. I give her a quick kiss for being so clever. "Right," I say finally. "The Muggle flat. Was it Talitha's?"

Hermione frowns. "Do you know, I think it might have been where she grew up," she says thoughtfully. "I'm not sure why I think so, but I do. Anyway, she told me she was a half-blood, and that she'd been raised by her Muggle mother, but that she knew who her father was." She turns around to look at me. "I nearly died when she told me his name."

Don't tell me Ginny was right. "It's never Voldemort," I say, only half-joking.

"No, not Voldemort," Hermione says. "Although that was odd, too. But it was someone nearly as bad - Rabastan Lestrange!"

I'm not as surprised as I would have thought. I reckon it had to be one of the major Death Eaters, didn't it?

"Anyway," Hermione continues. "That's why she thinks that gold ornament ought to be hers. Not that she came right out and named it, of course. But she did quite a bit of raving in between ordering me to work on that absolutely pointless Arithmancy problem. She's completely insane, you know."

_You don't say._ "What'd you tell her about the Arithmancy?" I ask.

"I told her it couldn't be done, of course," Hermione says calmly. "Oh, and she's putting herself at Hogwarts the day _before_ the Battle, mind, but naturally I didn't correct her."

"The day before?" I ask, startled. "But that means - "

"Well, exactly," Hermione says. "At first I thought that'd give us an advantage, but it doesn't really, because we didn't know to suspect her. But then I realized that if I could trick her into taking me back in time along with her, I could - "

"You thought what?" I say indignantly. "Not bloody likely, Hermione! It's much too dangerous!"

"Well, I can't do it now, obviously," Hermione says. "And you have to remember, I was desperate. I thought she was going to kill all of you - and me, too." Her voice quavers slightly as she adds, "She told me she'd kill you _first_. She said she'd call in the werewolves to do it. She kept reminding me… every time she thought I might try to get away or something…"

I set my cup down so I can get my other arm around her. "It's okay," I whisper. "She's never getting near you again." _Because if she tries, I'll kill her myself._

"I'm all right," Hermione says after a minute. "Let me tell you the rest. I told her she couldn't stop time, and that the best she could hope for was using some sort of Freezing Charm to stop everything around her - "

"That's really clever," I say, impressed.

"Talitha thought so, too," Hermione says ruefully. "I wish I hadn't given her the idea. She started dancing around saying that now she knew the secret, and then suddenly she was angry again, and she said Rodolphus had taken 'it', and her plan wouldn't work unless she could get it back."

"It" would be that gold thing, obviously. Lucky for us she thinks Rodolphus has it. "She can't get at him, though, so what's she going to do?" I ask.

Hermione looks worried. "Ron, I think she can," she says. "She said something about having friends in Azkaban - and I expect she does; half the old Death Eaters are in there."

"They won't dare to try anything in front of Robards," I remind her, but I feel a bit uneasy. Perdita's at Azkaban, too. I don't want anything to happen to Perdita.

"That's true," Hermione says, not sounding very reassured. "Anyway, she was going on about Rodolphus when an owl showed up with a message for her, and she went hurrying out on some sort of errand. I didn't dare try to escape because she told me she had people watching the flat. So I wrote down everything she'd told me - I suppose I had some sort of mad idea that the owl might come back or something - and then Kreacher showed up and told me you were all at the Ministry, and then he brought me straight here." She burrows into me with a contented sigh. "I was so afraid I'd never see you again," she murmurs.

I brush my lips against her hair. "Think they'd miss us if we slipped off home for an hour?" I whisper.

"Yes," Hermione says firmly. "We're lucky we got ten minutes alone as it is. Come on, we'd better go and see what Harry wants to do."

**Hermione**

Ron told me that Harry had called out the entire D.A. to help look for me, but I'm still a bit astonished by the number of people in the pub. The door is barred, and the dirtiest curtains I've ever seen are drawn tightly against the windows. Aberforth, looking almost happy for once, is hurrying about with a drinks tray taking orders. Dennis is keeping out of the way, but he looks thrilled to be in the midst of things. Oh dear, I hope no one recognizes him.

"Parvati and Dean are back," Ron says, looking around. "The others must still be at the Shack." I look at him, puzzled, and he adds, "They were looking for clues - and now they're guarding it. Neville's got my half of the mirror. Harry'll explain everything in a minute."

Our entrance causes a stir, and it's several minutes before Ron, Harry, Ginny and I are able to withdraw to a quiet corner by ourselves.

"So what do you think?" Harry asks, watching me as I examine the stone tablet.

"It's got to be where Talitha got her information," I say. "Did you ask Ernie if he remembers her coming into Magical Records?"

"He said she was there all the time," Ginny volunteers. "He said all the secretaries are. Most of the ones who've been there for years know where everything is as well as the Magical Records clerks do, so they mostly just let them look for themselves."

"So Talitha's had full access to everything in Magical Records for at least two years," Harry says. He looks down at the tablet. "Shame it doesn't tell how it works, isn't it?"

I read the Runes again. "I think it must be something like I said to Talitha," I say finally. "A sort of Freezing Charm that makes everything around you stop. The person holding the ornament would be the only one able to move."

"What I don't get," Ginny says thoughtfully, "is why she needs it to stop. If all she wants to do is go back and - and - " She breaks off abruptly and adds "Time doesn't need to _stop_, does it?"

She's right. It wouldn't take Talitha a second to go back and dispose of Harry with a quick _Avada Kedavra_. If that's all she means to do…

Ron's eyes meet mine. "Hermione?" he asks. "What did you mean before about Voldemort - when you said _that_ was odd, too?"

I repeat the last part of my conversation with Talitha, mimicking her expression to the best of my ability. The other look at each other, baffled.

"Well, she's mad, isn't she?" Ron says finally.

"I know what she meant," a voice says from behind us.

We all turn, startled, to see Draco Malfoy watching us from the corner. I'd nearly forgotten about him - and so had Ron, judging by his expression.

"You do?" Harry asks. There's a touch of skepticism in his voice, and Malfoy flushes.

"If I tell you, have I still got to do that other thing?" he bargains.

What other thing? I look at Ron, but he's watching Malfoy through narrowed eyes. "He doesn't know anything, Harry," he says. "He just wants to get out of it."

"It's too late," Harry says to Malfoy. "You saw me send the owl."

The owl? Talitha's owl? "You sent that?" I say to Harry. I turn to Ron. "You might have said."

"I got distracted," Ron says, grinning at me. "Harry got Malfoy to write Talitha a letter saying he was on her side and that he had something that belonged to her. She's supposed to meet him at the Shrieking Shack at midnight."

"Only there's no need, is there?" Malfoy says defensively. "You've got Granger back."

"We want to catch Talitha," Ginny points out, looking exasperated. "I'd do it in a minute, but it's got to be Malfoy, obviously."

"She won't come alone," I warn.

"Malfoy won't be alone, either," Harry answers. "We have people inside the Shack and surrounding it." He looks pointedly at Malfoy. "So if you have any more information that will help us catch her, now's the time to speak up."

"I never said it would help you catch her," Malfoy says sulkily. "I just know what she's planning - and it's not to bring the Dark Lord back, either!"

The rest of us stare at each other speechlessly. Of course - that's why she looked so astonished when I brought up Voldemort. He never figured into her plan at all…

"Let me guess," Harry says grimly. "She's going to let me take him out of the way for her before she kills me."

"Before she kills all of you," Malfoy corrects. "That's why she needs time to stop. That bit at the end, just before everyone rushed Potter - "

"_All_ of us?" Ron says disbelievingly. "Us and Kingsley and all the Aurors, and the Hogwarts kids, and - well - _everyone_?"

Malfoy nods. "Zabini told me," he explains. "Her lot all think the same as you did - that's she's trying to stop Potter. Only she doesn't want the Dark Lord controlling things. She wants to be in charge. Zabini's the only one that knows - the rest of them never would've stood for it, obviously."

Even knowing Talitha as well as I do, I'm stunned. "She's completely mad," I say slowly.

Malfoy shrugs. "Maybe, but she's almost done it, hasn't she?" he says.

"Not yet," Harry says. "And she won't get away with it." He looks at his watch. "We've got an hour. Let's sit everyone down and go over this again."

**Harry**

The others are all gathered around an ancient radio. Ernie catches my eye and beckons frantically. "You'll want to hear this, Harry," he says.

We hurry over, but it's nothing but an advertisement for Madam Malkin's. "What's happened?" I ask.

"There's some sort of riot at Azkaban!" Parvati whispers, looking terrified. "You don't suppose…"

"They have guards there," Dean says, but he looks uneasy. "And they'll call out the Aurors - well, not you and Ron, Harry - but - "

"Shh, it's coming back on!" Susan says. We all lean in close to listen.

"Once again, we have received reports that a number of prisoners have staged a riot in an attempt to break out of Azkaban prison," the announcer's voice says. "Our reporters are close by, but unable to confirm whether or not any have been successful. The Minister of Magic is reported to be en route, and we will continue to update you as we learn more. The Ministry cautions all who may be in the vicinity not to venture out until the situation has been secured. Again, we have received reports…"

Aberforth reaches over and turns down the volume. "Bloody fools, those reporters," he grunts. "Even when they don't know anything, they still can't shut up about it."

"So much for Kingsley," Ron says to me in a low voice.

"We can manage on our own," I say to all of them. "We've done it before."

"Of course we can," Ginny says firmly, slipping her hand into mine. "You wanted to go over things again, didn't you, Harry?"

I look at her gratefully. "Yeah," I say, pulling out a chair for her. I wait till everyone's seated before beginning. "What about you, Hermione?" I ask, catching her eye. "Anything else about Talitha you haven't told us?"

Hermione considers. "Just that now some of the things she said are beginning to make sense," she says. "She said she'd got friends at Azkaban - she said Rodolphus wouldn't be safe there. Although I expect he's one of the ones trying to break out."

Malfoy looks terrified again at the prospect of his uncle escaping. "And she talked a bit about how it was going to be after her side had won," Hermione says hurriedly, noticing his expression. She turns indignantly to Ron. "Imagine - she said we wouldn't be allowed to get married because _Umbridge_ was going to pass a law against it!"

"That little toad!" Ginny says contemptuously. "I'd like to see her try!"

"She nearly did it before," Hermione reminds her.

Ron's ears are red. "That's it!" he says furiously. "Hermione, will you marry me?"

"I've already said yes," Hermione says, looking as confused as the rest of us.

"No, I mean right now," Ron says. "This minute."

"Ron, don't be such an idiot!" Ginny says impatiently. "This is no time for a wedding!"

Ron ignores her, looking into Hermione's eyes. "We need to do it right now, don't you see?" he says urgently. "Just in case - well, you heard what they said on the radio."

Hermione actually looks like she's considering it. "But how can we?" she asks doubtfully. "There's no one to perform the ceremony."

Ernie clears his throat. "Actually, as a staff member of Magical Records, I'm legally entitled to perform civil ceremonies, including marriage," he says. He looks around proudly for a minute before adding sheepishly, "I've never actually done it before, but I expect I could manage."

Ron turns to Hermione eagerly. "How about it, love? Will you do it?"

"Ooh, that's so romantic!" Parvati whispers to Susan.

"I - all right," Hermione says, looking slightly dazed.

"Mum's going to kill both of you," Ginny warns, but she's smiling.

"We can have a party or something after," Ron says carelessly. "It'll be a lot less fuss - she ought to be grateful." He looks over at me. "Will you be my best man, Harry?"

"And Ginny can be my bridesmaid," Hermione puts in.

I can't help wondering if they really have to do this _right now_. But the girls are already gathered around Hermione, chattering excitedly. I go over and stand next to Ron. "What have I got to do?" I ask Ernie, a bit nervously. "I've never been a best man before."

"Nothing, except sign the register afterwards," Ernie says.

I look around. "It's not here," Ernie says. "I wasn't exactly expecting to perform a wedding ceremony tonight. It'll be all right, though - I can draw up a temporary form."

Drawing up a form doesn't exactly sound like a quick procedure, does it? "It's already after eleven," I remind him in a low voice.

"Don't worry, Harry," Ron says, overhearing. "This isn't going to take long."

"Oh, _that's_ romantic," Ginny says. "Are you sure you want to marry him, Hermione?"

"I'm sure," Hermione says calmly. "Are we ready?"

Ernie's leaning over the table, scribbling something hastily on a scrap of parchment. "All right," he says, straightening. "Er, you and Ron stand in front of me, Hermione, and Harry and Ginny - "

"Wait!" Parvati calls. She flicks her wand, producing a wreath of white flowers, which she places carefully in Hermione's hair. "Now you look more like a bride," she says, smiling at her.

Ernie clears his throat. "Er, right," he says, very red in the face. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Someone pounds on the locked door. "Let us in, will you?" a familiar voice calls.

"That's George," Ron says, pleased. "He can come to our wedding."

I can't help wondering how George Weasley knew to come to the Hog's Head. "Prove you're really George," I demand, standing on the other side of the door with my wand out.

Ginny's at my side. "Ask him a question," she whispers. She raises her voice. "George, what did Percy's girlfriend give him for Christmas?"

"The ugliest purple velvet shirt I've ever seen," George answers promptly. "I very nearly couldn't eat my dinner for looking at him."

"Audrey has excellent taste," Percy's voice says indignantly.

Ginny giggles. "It's them," she says. "Open the door, Harry!"

Percy looks at me apologetically. "I tried to give Kingsley your message, Harry," he says. "Only - "

"It's all right," I say. "We heard about Azkaban." I frown slightly. "How'd you know where I was?"

"The secretary in the Auror Department," Percy explains. "It took me ten minutes to convince her I was Ron's brother before she finally told me where you were. And I brought George because - well - "

"Because he didn't want to face Ron by himself," George interrupts. He looks over at Ron and Hermione, baffled. "What on earth are they doing?"

"Getting married," I say.

"They can't," Percy says at once. "Mum - "

"Shut up, Percy," George says, looking delighted. "You weren't around before Bill's wedding or you'd know how absolutely brilliant this is!" He hurries over to clap Ron on the shoulder. "Well done, Ron! I didn't think you'd have the nerve to elope!"

I look at my watch anxiously and catch Ernie's eye. He clears his throat again, and the others settle down.

The ceremony that follows is something like the one I remember from Bill and Fleur's wedding - only much shorter. Ernie clearly hasn't quite got all of it memorized yet, but he remembers the important bits. Ron and Hermione don't seem to notice - they have eyes only for each other.

I look down at Ginny and see that her eyes are filled with tears, even though she's smiling steadily. I reach over and take her hand and she squeezes mine gratefully.

Ernie's wrapping things up. "I now declare you - here, you can't kiss her yet, Ron!" he says, looking a bit put out. "I haven't declared you bonded for life yet."

"Too late," Dean says, grinning. "They've started without you."

"Do the stars, Ernie," Susan urges. "I always love that bit."

Ernie delivers his line again; then waves his wand over the oblivious pair in front of him. A look of profound relief comes over his face as a shower of silver stars erupts from the end of the wand.

Ginny mops her eyes and smiles at me. "I always cry at weddings," she says. "Silly, isn't it?"

_I hope you're not going to cry at ours,_ I think. I very nearly say it, too, but I catch myself. This isn't the time. "You're not the only one," I say instead. "Look at Aberforth!"

Ernie's bustling over, quill in hand. "Sign here, please," he says importantly.

"I suppose that was legal?" Ginny whispers to me, taking the quill.

Ron and Hermione are still kissing. "You, too, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley!" Ernie calls, tapping Ron on the shoulder.

Hermione takes the quill from Ginny, looking slightly dazed at being addressed as Mrs. Weasley. I hug her, then shake Ron's hand. "Congratulations," I say, meaning it. "I hope you'll be very happy - and we'll do a proper party once we've gotten all this settled."

"Champagne all round!" George calls to Aberforth. "Well done, Ron - and mind you warn me when you're going to break the news to Mum. I think I'll visit Charlie in Romania that week."

I've just accepted a glass from a wildly overexcited Dennis when I hear Neville's voice. I pull the mirror from my pocket.

"No sign of her yet, Harry," Neville whispers.

I look at my watch. Ten minutes till midnight. Neville knows what to do from here - clear out of the Shack, but guard the entrances and the surrounding area. Seamus and Lavender are already in place outside the Whomping Willow.

"Okay," I tell him. "We're on our way."

"Sorry to break this up," I call, raising my voice to be heard above the general chatter. "But it's time." I catch Malfoy's eye. "Ready, Draco?" I say.

**Draco**

No, I'm not bloody ready, Potter. Isn't it bad enough I had to stand here and watch Weasley and Granger get married? That was enough to ruin my evening, thanks very much. But I don't dare back down. Not with all of them here, watching me.

"I'm ready," I lie, tossing back my glass of champagne. Ready to get myself killed, most likely - not that Potter and that lot would care. What's one more Death Eater's son?

Potter holds up his hand, motioning me to wait, and pulls Granger and Weasley aside. It looks like they're arguing with him about something, but they appear to give in at the end. The kid - Aloysius or whatever the hell his name is - walk by me, and I grab another glass off his tray.  
>"I've never been to a wedding before," the kid tells me. Like I care.<p>

Potter's coming back over to me. "Take it easy on that stuff," he says, eying my glass disapprovingly. "You've got to keep a clear head."

"It's my first glass," I lie, managing to look convincingly indignant.

Potter raises an eyebrow, but evidently decides to let it drop. "I've been thinking," he says after a minute. "I think there's a good chance Talitha might not show up herself."

"_I_ wouldn't," I say honestly. "I'd make someone else do it."

Potter gives me an odd look. "Would you?" he says. "I'd want to hear it for myself, if I were her. But just in case Talitha agrees with you, I've come up with an alternate plan. If someone else shows up in her place, here's what I want you to say."

I listen, feeling a bit stunned. "Are you sure?" I say, a little blankly. "That means you're going to have to - "

"I know what it means," Potter says calmly. "Are you ready?"

No. "Let's just get it over with," I say grimly.

I know where to go. He told me to Apparate from the alley behind the Hog's Head into the clearing just beyond the Shack. I look around at the dark trees nervously as I arrive. I can't see or hear anything, but I know Potter's people are here somewhere. I approach the Shack slowly, keeping my wand out.

"Go inside," Potter whispers from about two inches away. "She's not here yet - we've checked it out."

I jump nervously - he said he'd follow with that damned Cloak on, but I didn't think he meant _that_ close - and then hurry into the Shack. I feel better once I get inside, even though I know it could be a trap.

The Shack is dark and quiet. I can hear Potter and whoever he's got with him under there breathing, but I can't hear anything else. Suddenly there's a creaking noise, and then a sliver of light appears as the door opens a crack. I wait, but no one comes in. "Talitha?" I say hesitantly. "Are you there? It's me, Draco Malfoy."

There's no reply. Suddenly the door's flung open the rest of the way. I light my wand so I can see.

"I don't believe it," I say, disgusted. "What the hell are _you_ doing here, Nott?"

"You know why I'm here," Nott says. He looks around. "Are you alone?"

"Yes," I lie. "Are you?"

"Yeah," Nott says. He's probably lying, too. He holds out his hand. "Let's have it, then."

"I haven't got it, idiot!" I say. "I just said I knew who did."

Nott looks at me skeptically, and all of a sudden I have a feeling it's not him. It looks like Nott, and it sounds like Nott - but he's acting different. The Nott I went to school with was always sort of furtive and sneaky-looking, and he usually mumbled things sort of to himself rather than speaking to anyone directly. This Nott is looking me right in the eye.

But if it's not him… is it Talitha? She could have taken Polyjuice Potion. But I can't figure out how to warn Potter. He'll never pick it up on his own - it's not like he exactly hung out in the Slytherin Common Room, is it? Anyway, I can't be sure it's Talitha, either. All I know is that it definitely isn't Nott.

"Come on, Malfoy!" Nott (or whoever it is) says impatiently. "I asked you who it is!"

Right, then. It's going to have to be Plan B. I take a deep breath. "Harry Potter's got it," I say. "He's got a Time-Turner and he's already on his way back to stop Talitha." 

**Hermione**

I thought we ought to go with Harry under the Cloak, but Ron wouldn't hear of it. "You're not going anywhere near Talitha, Hermione," he said firmly. "She still wants something from you."

I wasn't so sure - I think she's already got what she wanted from me - but Harry agreed with Ron. "There's no need," he told me. "We've got plenty of people there already. Dean or someone can come with me." He looked over his shoulder. "Ginny's going to want to do it, but I'm not letting her," he added.

"_I_ can go with you," Ron argued, but Harry shook his head.

"Stay here with Hermione," he said. "It's supposed to be your wedding, isn't it?"

The mood in the pub is definitely rather party-like, especially with George here. He's entertaining everyone while Percy looks on rather glumly. Ron puts his arm around me and I let myself relax against him.

"We're really married," I say, touching the gold band on my finger. It was rather a shock to me when it just appeared on my hand like that, although Ron says that's always how it works.

"You're not sorry, are you?" Ron asks, a little anxiously. "I reckon I sort of rushed you."

"I'm not sorry at all," I tell him. "You know I didn't want a big fuss. This was perfect."

"It was, wasn't it?" Ron says, sounding pleased. "Mind, it'd be a lot more perfect if we could've taken off on a honeymoon or something instead of spending our wedding night at the Hog's Head."

"I am _not_ sleeping here," I tell him. "Remember what Trelawney told Harry about the bedbugs?"

"We probably won't have to stay here all night," Ron says, but he doesn't sound terribly sure. "If Talitha doesn't come herself, Harry and that lot will all come straight back."

"If she doesn't come herself, Malfoy's going to tell her that Harry has what she's looking for," I remind him. I look up at him, worried. "I still think it was an awfully risky move."

"So do I," Ron admits. "Dunno why he couldn't have said Rodolphus had it or something. That's what she already thinks, anyway."

"Harry wants to force her out into the open," I say with a sigh. "I expect this will do it, but I can't help thinking we're moving too fast. Just catching Talitha isn't going to end the problem. We need to round up the whole lot of them at once."

"If you can think of something that would get them all out into the open with Talitha, now's the time to do it," Ron says, but I can't think of anything.

George is coming over. "Am I allowed to kiss the bride?" he asks. "Shame you two can't head off on a wedding trip, but you probably want to see this through."

"At least we got through it without a Death Eater attack," Ron says. "Not like Bill and Fleur."

"You got through it without any reporters, too," George says. "You would have missed reading about it, but Rita Skeeter had front-page columns in the _Prophet_ three days running."

That's it. "Rita Skeeter," I say thoughtfully.

"Now you mustn't feel left out, Hermione," George says teasingly. "I'm sure Rita'll be on to you as soon as she hears."

But that'll be too late. "I'm going to send her a message," I decide, pulling out my wand.

Ron and George look equally horrified. "Why?" Ron asks blankly.

"Because it'll get them all out into the open," I tell him. "A Muggle-born marrying a pureblood - it goes against everything they stand for."

"Has it got to be Rita?" George asks plaintively. "She's not coming here, is she? Her fingernails scare me."

"For our purposes, Rita's the best choice," I tell him. "But she's definitely _not_ coming here. I'll send a Patronus, and she can do whatever she likes with the information."

"Make sure you tell her Harry was best man," Ron says, warming up to the idea. "It'll be sure to make the front page that way."

It takes me a few minutes to come up with the wording - Patronus messages have to be so short; it's a bit difficult - but eventually I'm satisfied. "There," I say, watching the silver otter bound away. "That ought to make Rita's evening."

"More like her whole month," George says. "I don't think she'll ever forgive Harry for telling everything on Lee's show instead of giving her an exclusive."

"Let's tell Lee, too," Ron suggests. "Just in case some of the Death Eaters don't know how to read."

I send a second version to Lee Jordan - with a slight addition this time.

Ron looks at me, impressed. "Well, _that_ ought to bring them out," he says.

"I'll turn the radio up," George says, flicking his wand at it. "He might announce it tonight."

"Hardly, with a prison riot going on," I protest, but the radio seems to have gone back to playing music.

"I wish they'd tell us something," I say anxiously. "Anything might be happening."

"I could send a message to Perdita," Ron offers. "Only maybe I'd better not - I don't want to distract her. Anyway, I'm not sure she's supposed to be telling me stuff right now."

"Why isn't she?" George demands, but Ron shakes his head.

"Long story," he says briefly. He looks at his watch. "Shouldn't Harry be back by now?"

Harry's only been gone about ten minutes. It's a pretty transparent attempt at distraction, and George isn't fooled. "Fine, don't tell me," he says, unperturbed. He drifts away soon after. I look around and spot him deep in conversation with Ginny, who's no doubt telling him the whole story.

"There's no such thing as privacy in this family," Ron says, watching them.

"Never mind," I say, kissing him. "I'm sure it'll all be straightened out in the end."

Ron looks unconvinced, but he's willing to be diverted. We're interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.

Aberforth motions the rest of us to silence. "Who's there?" he demands gruffly, clutching his wand.

"It's me, Neville," Neville's voice answers.

I move to Aberforth's side. "Ask him what curse I put on him first year," I whisper.

Aberforth looks slightly taken aback, but repeats the question.

"She Petrified me, and I was only trying to stop them from getting in trouble," Neville says, sounding slightly aggrieved.

Aberforth snorts and looks at me. I nod. "Not bad for a first-year," he concedes, opening the door.

Neville rushes in on a wave of cold air, followed by Hannah, Seamus, Lavender, Terry and Anthony.

"Where's Harry?" Ron demands.

"Coming," Neville says, between chattering teeth. "Have you got anything hot to drink? It's freezing out there!"

"Aloysius!" Aberforth bellows. "Tea!"

"Have some champagne instead, Neville," George invites.

"What are you all drinking champagne for?" Terry asks, looking around. "And why's Hermione got that flower thing in her hair?"

Goodness, I'd forgotten. I reach up, but Ron stops me. "Leave it," he whispers. "You look pretty."

"We had a wedding!" Parvati's explaining. "It's a shame you all had to miss it."

Lavender looks at me, wide-eyed. "No," she says in disbelief, and I nod.

"You're married?" Neville says, nearly dropping his tea cup in astonishment. "You mean - tonight?"

They're all crowding around us now. "Congratulations," Seamus says heavily. He leans in close to Ron to whisper, "And thanks a lot, mate." He rolls his eyes in Lavender's direction. "I'll never hear the end of this now, will I?"

"You'll be next," Ron says, grinning at him.

"But you didn't have a dress," Lavender wails, looking horrified. "Or any bridesmaids, or presents, or - or a cake!"

"Ginny was my bridesmaid," I answer. "And I don't care about the other things."

"I wouldn't mind cake," Ron says thoughtfully. He looks around. "Hey, D - er - Aloysius! Got any cake?"

"Cake?" Dennis says blankly, like he's never heard of it before. "I - I'll see." He gives Ron an odd look and disappears in the direction of the kitchen. Oh dear, I hope he doesn't think he's got to bake one or something.

Parvati and Lavender are still talking about weddings. "Sorry to interrupt," Ginny says, not looking sorry at all. "But would someone like to tell us what the hell happened out there?"

**Harry**

It's a good thing I warned Dean ahead of time, but he still looks startled when Malfoy delivers his line. Nott's startled, too, but Nott's never been all that bright. "Potter?" he repeats. "You're sure?"

"I said so, didn't I?" Malfoy snaps. "Go and tell Talitha, since she couldn't be bothered coming herself." He's staring at Nott almost challengingly, and I wonder why - but then Nott turns abruptly and Disapparates.

Just like that, we're alone in the Shack. I pull out the mirror. "Round up the others and go back," I whisper. "We'll follow in a few minutes."

"No trouble, then?" Neville asks, sounding disappointed.

It depends on your definition of trouble. "No," I say, returning the mirror to my pocket. I turn to Malfoy. "Well done," I tell him. "You sounded very convincing."

"Did I really?" Malfoy says, raising his eyebrows at me. "Did I sound like I thought I was talking to Theodore Nott?"

What? "Don't tell me," I say with a groan, but Malfoy's nodding.

"I don't know who it was," he says. "But it definitely wasn't Nott."

"Talitha?" I ask, and Malfoy shrugs.

"I couldn't tell," he insists defensively. "And I couldn't think how to signal you, so I just said what you told me to."

"We could still catch him," Dean says eagerly.

"He _Disapparated_, moron," Malfoy snaps.

I can't think straight. "It doesn't matter," I say finally. "Even if it was Talitha, maybe it's better this way."

Malfoy shakes his head. "I always knew you were mad, Potter," he says.

"Shut up," Dean tells him. "Harry knows what he's doing."

_I'm glad you think so, Dean._ "Let's go back," I say. I need to talk to Ron and Hermione.

Ginny throws her arms around me when we return, and it's several minutes before I manage to catch Ron's eye. The four of us settle around a table in the corner.

I don't even have to say it, as it turns out. "We've got to go back, don't we?" Hermione whispers. Her voice trembles a little, and she slips her hand into Ron's as she speaks.

"We don't _all_ have to," I say. "I was thinking I could - "

"No," Ron says. "You're not doing this on your own, Harry."

I look at their three determined faces. "I'm coming, too," Ginny says firmly, before I can speak. "Don't even think of telling me I'm not."

"Okay," I say with a sigh. "Just the four of us, though. It's not safe for anyone else - they were all at Hogwarts the whole time before the Battle. And we'd better come up with a plan quickly, because Talitha's already on her way."

"That doesn't matter, does it?" Ginny asks, looking puzzled. "If you've got a Time-Turner, can't we just go whenever we want?"

Oh. "Yeah, I guess we could," I admit, looking at Hermione for confirmation.

She nods. "Harry, I know you want to settle this," she says. "But don't you think we'd be better off if we went home and had a good night's sleep first? It'd give us time to come up with a proper plan - and maybe Kingsley would be back by then."

The last thing on my mind is sleep, but I look from her face to Ron's and give in.

"All right," I say. I look around the crowded pub. "What do you want to do with this lot?"

Ron opens his mouth, but there's a sudden silence in the pub. I look over to where George is frantically waving his arms to keep everyone quiet. "It's Lee, it's Lee!" he's saying loudly. He flicks his wand at the radio to turn up the volume, and suddenly I can hear Lee Jordan's voice as clearly as if he's standing next to me.

"On a lighter note, I've just received some excellent news from some very good friends of mine," he's saying. "Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were married tonight in a private ceremony - thanks for inviting _me_, Ron and Hermione - and Harry Potter was best man at the wedding! But it looks like I'll have to forgive the new Mr. and Mrs. Weasley after all, because they've invited their friends and family to join them at a celebration at eight o'clock tomorrow evening at the Ministry Cafe. That's located at the Ministry of Magic headquarters, for those of you who didn't know. I hope to see all of you there! And now, back to our lead story. There is still no word on the situation at Azkaban…"

Ginny looks at Ron, wide-eyed. "If you're still alive tomorrow night, it won't be for long," she says. "Because Mum is definitely going to kill you."

"We needed a way to draw Talitha's followers out into the open," Hermione says.

"That ought to do it," I tell her. "If any of us are still alive, it ought to be a very interesting evening." It's a brilliant idea, but I can't help wishing she'd given me a bit more notice.

"We'll still be alive," Ron says firmly. "I'm not missing my own wedding reception."

The others are coming over now. "Is it going to be dressy?" Lavender's asking eagerly. "What are you going to wear, Hermione?"

Hermione gives me a helpless look. "It's not just a wedding reception," I say, raising my voice to be heard over the others. "I'm not sure how many of you were here earlier when Hermione mentioned Umbridge's plan to stop purebloods and Muggle-borns from marrying - "

"This is going to attract a lot of attention from the wrong people," Neville interrupts. He looks at me. "Unless that's your plan, Harry?"

Well, it wasn't exactly _my_ plan, but I nod anyway.

"Nice way to round them all up at once," George says approvingly. "Lucius Malfoy and that lot ought to - " He breaks off, looking guiltily at Malfoy.

"You think my father cares if they get married?" Malfoy says from his position at the edge of the group. "He doesn't care what any of you lot do."

I wish I could believe that. But it's true, Lucius doesn't seem to be involved this time around. "We're hoping Kingsley and the Aurors will have settled things at Azkaban in time to join us," I tell the others. "But if they haven't - well, it's just us, I'm afraid. Anyone who doesn't want to fight doesn't need to show up - there'll be no hard feelings."

"We'll be there," Hannah says at once, and I hear murmurs of agreement from the others. I look around. Every eye is meeting mine - no one's backing down.

"Well, thanks," I say lamely. "Look, you all did brilliantly tonight, and I'm sure we'd all like to get some sleep. I'm not sure if it's safe for all of you to return home - that radio message may have stirred up a bit of trouble already."

I'm about to offer Grimmauld Place - I feel obligated, even though it's going to be awfully crowded - but Aberforth's stepping to the front of the crowd.

"Plenty of beds here!" he announces. "Aloysius! Where is that boy?"

"Baking a cake," Hermione murmurs, looking sideways at Ron.

What? But Aberforth's voice has already brought Dennis out of the kitchen. "See that the guest rooms are made up," Aberforth's telling him. "I'll be along in a minute to help."

Dennis leaves the room without a word. Funny; I'd expect him to be all excited at the prospect of company. Maybe he's afraid someone will recognize him.

"Let's go home," Ginny whispers in my ear, and I can't think of any reason to wait any longer.

"Now, I think the first thing we'd better do tomorrow is go back to the Room of Requirement," I say to the others, once we're safe inside the door of Grimmauld Place. "And then - "

"Harry," Ron says, interrupting me. "We're going to bed."

What, _now_? "I know it's late, but we've got to plan," I argue.

Hermione gives me one of her looks. "Harry, it's our wedding night," she says. "Have I really got to spell it out for you?"

Ginny giggles. "Oh," I say, reddening slightly. I'm not quite sure where to look for a minute. "Er - right, then. See you in the morning."

Hermione ignores me. "Come on, Ron," she says, holding out her hand. Ron grins at me and follows her up the stairs.

I look at Ginny. "Well, we could - "

"We could not," Ginny says firmly. "We're going to bed, too." She pauses. "There is one thing we could take care of tonight, though."

"What?" I ask, my mind still on tomorrow.

"You can change my hair back to red," Ginny tells me. "I don't have to be in disguise now that we're home, do I?"

Home - I rather like the way she said that. "Hold still," I say, pulling out my wand.

**Draco**

They've given me the worst room, naturally. I'm sure Aberforth Dumbledore did it on purpose. He still hates me, even though I've done more to help Potter than any of these other idiots. None of the others like me, either. The only one who's made the slightest attempt to be friendly is that prat Longbottom, and I'd rather sit by myself than talk to him.

The house is dark and silent. Everyone else is asleep. Of course, they've probably all got proper beds, haven't they? Not like the one in this room - the mattress is like stone, and I didn't dare look too closely at the sheets.

If I had a drink I could sleep. Well, I'm in a pub, aren't I? Plenty to drink downstairs - if I can get there without anyone catching me…

I slip silently out of bed and ease the door open. I can hear someone snoring, but there's not another sound. Carefully I creep down the stairs into the pub and behind the bar.

I nearly have a heart attack when someone stands up in front of the fireplace. "Who's that?" I demand, annoyed at the way my voice is shaking.

"It's just me, Aloysius," a voice says apologetically.

Oh - the kid. "What're you doing up?" I ask, relaxing. I hesitate for a second and then help myself to a glass of firewhisky. The kid won't say anything.

"I couldn't sleep," Aloysius says. He looks at the glass in my hand. "I guess you couldn't, either."

"Why can't _you_ sleep?" I ask, curious in spite of myself. Aloysius doesn't have a worry in the world, from what I can tell.

"Something I overheard tonight," the kid says vaguely. He turns wide, worried eyes on me. "If you knew somebody was in trouble because of something you did, would you tell - even if it meant getting in trouble yourself?"

It takes me a second to work out what he means. I only have one question. "Are you going to get caught?" I ask.

The kid shakes his head. "Then, no," I answer. "I wouldn't tell. You're well out of whatever it is."

"But it's wrong," Aloysius moans.

These people make me tired. "Who cares?" I say impatiently. "You have to look out for yourself in this world."

Aloysius eyes me. "I don't think you really believe that," he says. "Because otherwise you wouldn't be here helping Harry, would you?"

It's too late to get into all that. "Go to bed, Aloysius," I say refilling my glass and heading for the stairs. _Helping Harry..._ like I had any choice. If I had anywhere else in the world to go, I definitely wouldn't be here.

**Ron**

"Wake up," Hermione says, leaning over me. "We'd better get dressed."

It's barely light out. "Time-turner," I remind her. I wish I could use one of those every morning - it'd come in useful, wouldn't it? "We can have a bit of a lie-in."

I pull her down next to me, and she snuggles up. "Our first morning being married," she says, reaching over to kiss me.

Now that's more like it. "How do you like it so far?" I whisper.

"Lovely," Hermione says, smiling at me. "Only I can't help worrying about whether your mum and dad heard Lee's broadcast last night."

Had to bring that up, didn't she? I sit up with a groan. "I thought you wanted to stay in bed for a bit," Hermione protests, reaching for me.

Like I'm in the mood _now_. "They wouldn't have heard it," I say, trying to convince myself as well as her. "They never stay up that late."

"I'm sure they didn't," Hermione says soothingly. "Only they get the _Daily Prophet_, don't they?"

"Yeah, and I'll bet Rita got it into this morning's edition," I say. "We can expect an owl from Mum any second now."

Hermione pats the mattress next to her. "Then we may as well enjoy ourselves while we can," she says invitingly.

I let myself be persuaded.

It's some time later when we finally make it downstairs, but there's no sign of breakfast. That's funny - Kreacher's always got it on the table when we come down in the morning. "Maybe he overslept," Hermione says, but I don't think house-elves ever do that.

He's not in the kitchen, either, but we find Harry and Ginny busy cooking breakfast. Ginny's hair is red again - I guess she made Harry change it back. "Sleep well?" she asks us.

"Yeah," I say. I don't ask where Ginny spent the night because I don't want to know. "What happened to Kreacher?" I ask instead.

"I asked him to try and find Winky," Harry says. He looks worried. "I didn't think it'd take him all night - I hope nothing's happened."

"He's all right," I say. "Remember how long it took him to catch up with Mundungus?"

"Ron's right," Hermione says. "I'm sure Kreacher's safe. And I'm glad you're looking after Winky, Harry. She really needs our help."

Harry gives me a look that says he didn't exactly have Winky's needs in mind, but we silently agree not to get into it. There's no point in starting Hermione off on house-elves this early. "What's for breakfast?" I say, changing the subject.

"Harry and I are having scrambled eggs," Ginny says. "You can bloody well make your own."

Well, _that's_ nice. "Go on, Ginny," I say coaxingly. "It's my honeymoon - sort of."

Ginny shakes her head, but she looks amused. "Fine," she says, reaching for another couple of eggs. "But only this once - and only because it's Hermione's honeymoon, too!"

Harry's barely paying attention. "As soon as we've eaten, I think we'd better go over our plan and then get back to Hogsmeade," he says.

We have a plan? Hermione and I exchange a look. "Harry, we need to be careful," Hermione says. "You're all underestimating Talitha. She's been planning this for years. I don't think it's going to be easy to stop her."

I don't know about Harry and Ginny, but I'm definitely _not_ underestimating Talitha - not after she's already kidnapped Hermione twice. I'm not leaving Hermione's side till this is over. I sort of wish she and Ginny would stay here and let me and Harry handle this, but I know there's no point in saying so. "Well, we won't be able to catch her off guard," I say instead. "She'll be expecting us."

Harry grins at me. "It doesn't matter," he says. "We can stop her. I can make time stop - with this." He touches the mokeskin bag around his neck.

"Really?" Hermione says, unimpressed. "And how, exactly, does that thing of Slytherin's work, Harry?"

Harry's expression would almost be funny if it wasn't such a serious subject. "Er," he says.

"Precisely," Hermione says, getting up to help Ginny.

Harry looks at me. "Does she know how?" he mouths. I shake my head.

"We can try looking it up," Hermione says, setting plates in front of us. "But I'm not sure we'll be able to find anything. I really think we'd better not rely on it."

Harry seizes on this faint ray of hope. "Those books Susan and Michael brought from Magical Records last night!" he says. "We'll just have to get them from the Hog's Head, and - "

"There's nothing in those," Hermione says. "I looked. If there was anything in Magical Records that told how to use that orb thing of Slytherin's, then Talitha probably stole it. She had heaps of books in her flat, and they weren't all about Arithmancy, either."

"Do you think you could find it again?" Harry asks eagerly. "We could go there, couldn't we? We already know Talitha's not going to be around."

Hermione looks worried. "I'm not sure," she admits. "I only saw part of the address. Kreacher would know, but…" She lets the words trail off.

"Harry, eat your eggs before they get cold," Ginny says firmly. "Kreacher might come back, and then we can ask him. If he doesn't, we'll just have to think of something else."

Sounds a bit like Mum, doesn't she? Harry gives her a startled look, but he picks up his fork obediently.

I follow Hermione into the sitting room after breakfast. "I don't want you going to Talitha's flat," I tell her. "Ginny's right - Kreacher can go."

"If he comes back in time," Hermione says. "It took him three days to find Mundungus." She pauses in front of the bookcase, running her hands over the contents. "We need a Muggle street guide," she says.

Which part of "you aren't to go there" didn't she understand? I get between her and the bookcase. "Hermione," I say warningly.

"Fine," Hermione says, glaring at me. "You think of something, then."

"All right, I will!" I tell her. "How's this? We get there the night before Talitha. We know she's probably going to have to come in the passage by the Whomping Willow, because the others are blocked and Neville and that lot are in the Room of Requirement. All we have to do is camp out by the Willow and Stun her as soon as she comes out."

Hermione stares at me. "It couldn't be that easy," she says blankly.

"Why couldn't it?" I demand. "She can't come in through the gates - how else is she going to manage?"

"There's something we're leaving out," Hermione insists, but when I run it by Harry and Ginny a few minutes later, they're all for it.

"Then we don't need to bother finding Talitha's flat after all," Ginny says, looking relieved. "Well, what about it? Should we just go now?"

We all look at each other. "Let's do it," I say. "Before Mum's owl catches up with me."

**Hermione**

My _Daily Prophet_ arrives just as we're leaving, but there's no time to stop and look at it. "Bring it along," Ron says.

I unfold it quickly as I follow him to the front door. Harry and Ginny are already waiting for us. "We didn't make the front page, anyway," I say to Ron. I'm not sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. "It's all about the riot at Azkaban."

"I had the radio on this morning," Harry says. "They still don't know anything." He looks worried. "Dunno why I haven't heard from Robards - they must have called in most of the Aurors."

"Just be glad you haven't," Ron says. "You wouldn't be able to go, and you'd probably find yourself suspended along with me." I look at him sideways as he says this, but he doesn't seem as upset about the suspension as he was before. Personally I think Robards will give in once he finds out what we've been doing - maybe Ron's finally come round to my way of thinking.

"Right," Harry says, unfolding the Cloak. "Now, we're not all going to fit properly, so Disillusionment Charms wouldn't hurt."

Less than a minute later, we're in Hogsmeade. It seems to have gotten even colder since yesterday - and it feels as though it might snow. I never thought I'd be glad to be going back to the days before the Battle, but there's something to be said for the fact that it'll be May.

Aberforth's alone in the pub. "None of that lazy lot are up yet," he greets us. "Not even Aloysius - and he's always up before me."

"Well, it was an awfully late night for him," I say.

Aberforth nods slowly. "I always thought I'd like to enjoy my morning coffee without him chattering in my ear, but it turns out I've got used to him," he says. "It was too damned quiet!" He looks us over. "What's the plan - or can't you tell me?"

"It's simple enough," Harry says with a shrug. "We're going back to Hogwarts to wait for Talitha."

"Got a Time-Turner, do you?" Aberforth says. "Thought I saw the MacMillan kid give you one last night." He sets down the glass he's wiping. "Mind you're careful with it. If you see yourselves - "

"We weren't there yet," Harry tells him. "But that's another reason I don't want the rest of them involved. They were all at Hogwarts then - and none of them have any experience with Time-Turners. It's too dangerous."

Ron and Ginny don't have any experience with Time-Turners, either - and Harry's only done it once himself - but I don't bother saying so. I just want to get out of here before anyone wakes up and wants to go with us.

"Can we use your upstairs parlor?" Harry's asking.

Aberforth looks startled. "Those kids were up and down that passage all the time in the days before the Battle," he protests. "You're bound to run into 'em."

"We'll take our chances," Harry says. "We've got the Invisibility Cloak." We'd already talked it over and agreed that the chance of running into Voldemort's supporters at the Shrieking Shack is too great. None of us was exactly sure when they'd started arriving.

Ginny tugs on Harry's arm. "Why are we going back in time before we get there?" she argues. "Hadn't we better just go to Hogwarts in this time and then go back? At least the Room of Requirement will be empty."

Harry looks faintly startled. "We could," he agrees. "Right, then. Let's go."

Aberforth clears his throat, and we all look at him. He looks away uncomfortably. "You kids be careful," he mutters after a moment.

Ginny leans over impulsively and kisses his cheek. "We'll be back before you miss us," she says.

"Here, none of that!" Aberforth protests, but he looks pleased. "Got to feed the goats," he adds, and leaves the room abruptly.

"Come on," Harry says. I slip my hand into Ron's and we follow him and Ginny up the stairs.

The Room of Requirement, as predicted, is empty. It's not set up like a library anymore - more like a sitting room. "No books for us today!" Ron says, sounding a little too pleased about it.

We can hear classes going on as we creep down the corridor, trying to stay together under the Cloak. _It's not too late,_ I think wildly. _It's still February; it isn't last May yet…_

And then we're outdoors. No one says a word as we make our way to the Whomping Willow. Harry lifts the mokeskin bag from around his neck and looks at me. I nod.

"Let me turn it," I say, holding out my hand for the tiny hourglass. "I've got the formula all worked out."

We crowd closely together. I have to do a Lengthening Charm on the chain to fit it around everyone's neck. I take the hourglass in my hand. This is it, then.

The sensation of falling backwards is the same as I remember it, but it seems to go on for much longer. Then it stops, abruptly.

_"Muffliato,"_ I say quickly, before anyone can speak.

"It's night," Ron says, sounding surprised. "Are you sure you've done it right?"

"I meant it to be night," I answer. "Anyway, I'm sure it's springtime. Can't you feel the difference in the air?"

"So Talitha will come in the morning?" Harry asks.

I nod, then realize he can't see me in the dark. "I'm afraid we might have a bit of a wait," I say apologetically. "Her formula's supposed to get her here at six in the morning, but I thought we'd better make sure we didn't miss her."

"Might as well get comfortable then," Ron says philosophically. He puts his arm around me. "Want to sit down under that tree over there?"

We manage - with difficulty - to settle on the ground while still staying under the Cloak. No one says anything for a long time, and I let my thoughts drift. Talitha's flat - I remember the number, and I saw a bit of the neighborhood. You could just see the river in the distance, and….

"Not asleep, are you?" Ron whispers to me.

I lift my head from his shoulder. "Just thinking," I whisper back. I don't want to tell him just yet, because he'll go completely spare if I even suggest it. But I'm sure I could find Talitha's flat again.

"It's starting to get light," Harry says abruptly. "I think we'd better get ready."

We all struggle to our feet. Harry, under the Cloak, takes up a position directly in front of the Willow. The rest of us spread out around it, at a safe enough distance to avoid the branches. The minutes tick by slowly.

"Harry?" Ginny whispers at last. "What if we've missed her?"

"How could we?" Harry demands, but he looks anxiously at his watch. I look down at mine, too, even though it's still set for the present and not for the day we're in now. I'm not sure exactly what time it is, but I can tell we've been standing here for over an hour. It must be well past six o'clock.

"We'll give it a bit longer," I say, but I'm worried, too. What if she changed her plans? She knew I saw her formula….

"We must have missed her," Harry says, when another half hour's gone by. "We'll just have to go back to the day before this and - "

"And what, hang about under this bloody tree for two days?" Ron demands incredulously. "Maybe she's coming later. Or maybe she got in a different way."

"What other way?" Ginny asks. "There isn't one."

"There's the front gate," I offer. "Maybe she disguised herself - or maybe she asked for one of the Carrows. They'd never stop her - not if she was on their side."

"They didn't know about her," Harry reminds me. "As near as I can tell, no one ever heard of her at all until all this business with Rodolphus started up." He moves restlessly. "Maybe she did get in some other way, though. I think I ought to go up to the castle and see if I can spot her."

"You can't go on your own," Ginny says immediately. "I'm coming with you."

After some discussion, we decide that Harry and Ginny - under the Cloak - will investigate things inside the castle. Ron and I will stay here and guard the tunnel entrance.

"Disillusionment Charms ought to be good enough for that," Ron says optimistically, but I'm not so sure. I can see him - just barely, but he's visible. I don't say anything, though - going up to the school is far more dangerous than staying here.

"You might have a look at that newspaper as long as we've got to stand about," Ron says after several minutes. "Go on, I'll watch the entrance."

I'm not sure if I should, but the temptation's too great. I fold the front page back carefully, trying not to let it rustle too loudly. It doesn't take long to spot Rita's byline. "Here we are on page three!" I tell Ron, looking up. "Will I read it out to you?"

I continue at his nod.

_"This reporter learned in an exclusive interview last night - "_ I break off and look at Ron indignantly. "What a liar - I never gave her an interview!"

"She always lies," Ron points out.

True enough. I turn back to the article. _"- that two of Harry Potter's closest companions found true love while fighting the Death Eaters last year."_ I look up again. "Honestly, she makes it sound as though we were snogging in the middle of the Battle!"

Ron grins at me. "We were," he says. "Go on, read the rest."

I've just started to read again when I hear a sharp crack. I look at Ron, startled. "Someone just Apparated," I mouth, and he nods, motioning me to stay silent. I reach for my wand, glancing around sharply.

"What the hell - " Ron mutters. I see his eyes widen and he raises his wand, pointing it at something behind me. I whirl and see the faint outlines of… _us_. It's me and Ron, still under Disillusionment Charms, making our way carefully across the lawn.

"They're disguised as us," Ron whispers hoarsely. "Don't move, Hermione. I'm going to Stun them."

I grab his arm just in time. "Wait," I say frantically. "What if it really _is_ us?"

Ron looks baffled. "How?" he demands. "We're here - and we weren't here yet then, so it can't be from before."

"What if we left and came back?" I say, once I've deciphered his meaning.

"But we didn't," Ron argues, never taking his eyes off the two shapes advancing across the grass. Oh dear, they're getting closer.

"I think we did," I say. "In fact, we must have, because I still have the Time-Turner - and there we are."

Ron finally looks at me. "Okay," he says. "Where did we go?"

I don't even have to think about it. "We went to Talitha's flat," I answer. "I think I can find it now." 

**Draco**

I don't want to go downstairs. I don't think anyone else is up yet - it's still pretty early - but I don't want to take the chance. It'll just be more of the same as last night. I'm still hesitating on the landing when I see Aberforth Dumbledore coming out of his private sitting room.

"Oh, it's just you," he mutters, glaring at me. "I thought it might be Aloysius."

_Good morning to you, too, you old goat._ "He's probably down there," I say, gesturing toward the stairs, but Aberforth shakes his head.

"He's not in his room, and the bed didn't look as though it had been slept in," he says, looking worried. "I haven't seen him all morning."

"He was still in the pub when I went to bed last night," I offer.

Aberforth turns round to stare at me. "Last night?" he says sharply. "I had the whole lot of you settled before I went to bed myself."

"I went down for - er - a glass of water," I say lamely. "The kid was sitting by the fire."

Aberforth glares at me again, and I have a feeling he knows exactly what I went down for a glass of, but fortunately he decides not to pursue it. "He say anything?" he asks instead.

"He was worried about someone getting in trouble because of him," I say. "It didn't make any sense."

It does to Aberforth, though - I can tell. An odd look crosses his face. "That's all?" he asks. "He didn't tell you any more?"

I shake my head. "I told him not to bother about it," I say.

Aberforth grunts. "Yeah," he says. "You would." He starts down the stairs without another word.

_Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?_ I follow him. "So what did he do?" I ask. "It can't have been anything terrible - he's just a kid." As soon as I say it, I remember what I did when I was about the same age - but it can't have been anything like that. No one from the Dumbledore family is likely to go over to the Dark Side, even if he is just a second cousin.

Aberforth doesn't bother answering me, but I'm lost in my own thoughts. "It's funny," I say aloud. "You'd think a Dumbledore relative - _any_ relative - would be a star student at Hogwarts, but I'm positive I never laid eyes on Aloysius before in my life. It's not exactly a name you'd forget, is it?"

Aberforth stops dead in his tracks. "He's younger than you," he mutters.

"Not that much younger," I say. "He's not your cousin at all, is he?"

Aberforth starts walking again. "Don't talk like a bigger fool than you are!" he snaps, but I'm sure I'm right.

Only if he's not Aberforth's cousin, then who is he? Someone in hiding, maybe? That would have made sense last year, but there's no reason for it now. The only person I've heard of recently that's missing is that Muggleborn kid from Gryffindor, the one whose brother was killed. No one's supposed to know, but Adrian Pucey told me the story one night at the Dark Horse. He said if he was the one to catch the kid, he'd just kill him on the spot and spare the Ministry the cost of putting a Mudblood on trial. Now, what the hell was his name again?

"That's it!" I say to Aberforth's back. "He's the Creevey kid, isn't he?"

Aberforth whips around and grabs my arm. "Shut up!" he hisses. "In here!" He hustles me into the kitchen, locking the door behind us. He advances on me slowly, wand out.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," I say nervously, rubbing my arm. "Why the hell would I care about his stupid Muggle parents? He didn't even hurt them."

Aberforth sighs and drops his wand arm. "He's not a bad kid," he says defensively. "His parents - well, they don't understand our ways. They wanted him to give up being a wizard."

A year ago I would have said they were right - I mean, that's what we all wanted, isn't it? For the Muggle-borns to stay where they belonged? Only things don't seem as clear to me as they used to. It's because of Clarissa, I reckon. She always said we were wrong about that.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," I say again. "I'll even help you look for him." It still hurts to think about Clarissa, but for once I don't feel like she'd be ashamed of me.

"I don't even know where to start," Aberforth admits. "Tell me again what he said to you."

I repeat the conversation. "Who does he think is going to get in trouble?" I ask curiously. "You?"

Aberforth snorts. "Who's going to do anything to _me_?" he demands. "No, there's more to this story than meets the eye - but I'll be damned if I can figure it out."

Maybe it's not that important. "Once we find the kid, he can explain it," I say. "What's his real name? Not Aloysius, I hope."

"His real name is Dennis," Aberforth says. "What's wrong with the name Aloysius? I named him after my great-grandfather."

"Nothing at all," I say quickly. "Er, let's have a look at his room. Will you be able to tell if anything's missing?"

Aberforth gives me another odd look, but there's no hostility in it this time. "This way," he says, opening another door. "We can use the back stairs."

**Harry**

We check the gates first, but they're locked, and a spider's web covers them from end to end. No one's been through here today.

"How're we going to get in?" Ginny whispers as we near the castle.

I think about it. I don't want to wait around for Filch to unlock the doors - _if_ he unlocks them. Things were a lot different at Hogwarts last year…

"We'll find a way in," I say, with a lot more confidence than I'm feeling. I look down at her, worried. "You do think we're in last year, don't you? I mean, I have a lot of faith in Hermione, but - "

Ginny nods at the towers in front of us. "They're still intact," she says. "Remember, we never quite fixed the tallest one. It's still before the Battle."

"Yeah, but when before the Battle?" I say. "Supposing it's the day before Talitha's coming."

Ginny shrugs. "We can try to get a look at the date somehow once we get inside," she offers. "But I've never known Hermione to be wrong about an Arithmancy problem before."

Good point - not that either of us would know an Arithmancy problem if we fell over it. "Right," I say. "Well, we'd better concentrate on getting in."

We circle the building silently. "There!" Ginny says, pointing to an open window.

"That's on the fifth floor," I say. "We can't climb up there."

Ginny grins at me. "No," she says. "But we could fly up." She looks back across the lawn. "We could try to break into one of the Quidditch changing-rooms. Maybe someone's left a broom there."

"Don't bother," I say. "_Accio_ broom!"

Ginny stares at me, wide-eyed, as a broom comes hurtling through the open window and into my outstretched hand. "That was clever," she says admiringly.

I grin at her. "I did it once before - only it was my own broom, that time. I guess we'll just have to borrow this from someone." I look it over. "It's the new Nimbus - rather a nice one. I hope nothing happens to it."

"Serve whoever it is right for leaving it around like that," Ginny says unsympathetically, climbing on behind me. "Are my feet showing?"

"Nope," I say, and push off from the ground.

It's a bit tricky getting through the window without making any noise, but we manage. I lean the broom up against a wall and look around.

"Where do you think she'd be?" Ginny whispers. "We can't search the whole school - it'd take hours."

I consider. She's right - we can't search the whole school by ourselves. "Let's concentrate on the other ways she might have gotten in," I whisper back. "The other tunnel entrance by the hump-backed witch statue, or the one in the Room of Requirement."

Ginny nods and slips her hand into mine. The halls are still empty and silent. I picture people waking up slowly in the dormitories, starting to get dressed… We haven't much time. But neither does Talitha - and she hasn't got an Invisibility Cloak.

**Ron**

I bend my head so Hermione can slip the chain around my neck. "When are you going to put us there?" I ask.

"Well, about half an hour ago, I suppose," Hermione says, looking surprised. "We don't want to run into her."

"But we don't know that she lived in that flat last year," I point out. "We need to see if she's still there in February, or if she's already gone back in time."

Hermione lets the hourglass drop. "When, then?" she says doubtfully.

"Right after you left last night," I decide. "There's got to be a bit of time in between when Kreacher took you away and she left."

Hermione slips out of the chain and reaches for the _Daily Prophet_. "I'll need to recalculate," she says. "Have you got a quill?"

I find one in my pocket and hand it to her. Hermione immediately begins scribbling foreign-looking symbols on the margin of the page. I can't help thinking it's a good thing I never tried to take Arithmancy at school - I'd never have got past the first day. "There," she says finally, looking up. "It doesn't give us much time, but it'll have to do."

"Well, we're not going to hang about," I point out. "Just a quick look to see if she's there, and then we can follow her when she leaves."

Hermione looks at me sideways. "What?" I say suspiciously, and then I remember. "Hermione, you don't want to fuss with all those old books, do you?" I demand. "It's not safe - what if she comes back?"

"It won't take me long," Hermione says stubbornly. She raises her eyes to mine. "It might be the only way to stop her."

I still don't like it - but I know Hermione. She's made up her mind that we need those books, and she's going to get them. "Fine," I say, exasperated. "But you don't leave my side for one second - and we stay under Disillusionment Charms the whole time."

Hermione gives me another look. "Disillusionment Charms," she says, "are only good enough to fool Muggles."

Agreed, but we don't have anything better. Or do we? "You want to go disguised as the old people again?" I ask.

"No, I think we'd better be Muggle repair people of some sort," Hermione says thoughtfully. "That won't look suspicious."

It won't? "Do they come to fix things in the middle of the night?" I ask doubtfully.

"Oh," Hermione says. "No, I guess not."

"You know who does come at night?" I say. "Burglars, that's who. Go on, Hermione, let's be Muggle burglars!"

Hermione laughs. "Don't be an idiot," she says. "Someone's bound to call the police on us."

From what she's said about that neighborhood, I sort of doubt it. But even if they do… "So what?" I say. "They'll be _Muggles_." Anyway, it'll be really cool, being burglars.

"All right," Hermione says unexpectedly. "We're burglars." She looks me over critically. "Go one more day without shaving and you won't need a disguise."

"There wasn't time before we left," I say, even though there was. I hate shaving. "And I can't have red hair - everyone knows who the Weasleys are from a mile off."

"You can have blonde hair this time," Hermione decides. "Maybe they'll think you're Malfoy."

Yeah, like that's any safer. "I'll go with brown," I tell her. "You can be blonde."

Hermione actually looks dead sexy by the time I'm done with her disguise, but I know better than to say so. "I look like a tart in these clothes," she says, looking down at herself. "Why did you make everything so tight-fitting?"

"Know what we need?" I say quickly. "Some of those black masks over our eyes. Don't burglars always wear those?"

Hermione looks like she wants to laugh again. "Where did you get your idea of burglars from - those old Muggle detective magazines of your dad's?" she demands.

_Maybe._ "Come on, we'd better go," I tell her. The other Ron and Hermione - us, I guess, even though it feels weird - are getting closer.

Hermione takes the hourglass in her hand and starts to turn it.

**Hermione**

I thought I'd gotten it wrong, at first - it's difficult, Apparating someplace you don't know the name of - but then I turn my head and see the river in the distance. "It's down this way," I whisper. "Come on."

Ron keeps one arm firmly around me, and the other on his wand as we hurry down the dark streets. "Keep a sharp eye out," he says in my ear. "It's possible she was telling the truth about having this place watched."

Possible - but somehow I doubt it. I rather think Talitha likes to keep this place a secret. I spot the building up ahead and squeeze Ron's hand in warning.

We creep silently up the stairs and hesitate outside, listening, but there's no sound from within. I nod at Ron and touch my wand to the door. _"Alohomora,"_ I tell it silently.

The door swings open and I feel myself tense, but the flat's empty. It looks exactly as it did when I left it last night - or five minutes ago.

"Grab the damned books and let's get out of here," Ron says, looking around nervously. He keeps guard by the door while I hurry over to the bookcase.

There's no time to pick and choose, so I simply grab everything that's not Arithmancy-related. "All right," I say, letting the stack of books Hover next to me. "I'm ready."

"You can't do a Hover Charm," Ron reminds me. "If a Muggle looks out their window and sees you - "

Right. I hand him half the stack. (All right, more than half, but he's a good deal stronger than I am.) "They'll think we're mad, anyway, stealing books," I remark.

"Want to take something else?" Ron asks, brightening. "Has she got a television? Dad's always wanted one of those."

"We're not real burglars," I remind him firmly. "Anyway, televisions don't work around magic. It disrupts the satellite signals or something."

"He just wants to have one, I think," Ron says. "He doesn't care if it works or not. Anyway, I don't see one." He looks around the flat, presumably for something else we can steal.

"Books are plenty," I say. "Come on - I don't want to be standing here when she gets back."

We make it back down the stairs without meeting anyone. Ron pulls me into a nearby alley. "Let's watch and see if she comes back," he whispers, dropping the stack of books behind a dustbin. "Then we'll take her down."

"I wouldn't count on that, if I were you," a voice says from behind us. I turn and see a shadow looming from the other side of the dustbin.

Ron's wand is out before I even see it coming. The shadow drops heavily to the ground. Oh dear, I hope it isn't a Muggle - we'll be in terrible trouble if we've attacked one.

It isn't a Muggle, though. It's Blaise Zabini.

**Harry**

Half an hour later, we've managed to determine that no one could have gotten through the passage that ends at the hump-backed witch, and that the Room of Requirement is still very much hidden.

The corridors are starting to fill up. "We'd better go," Ginny whispers, after we've narrowly avoided a collision with a group of Ravenclaws. "I don't think she's here, do you?"

"No," I admit, flattening myself against the wall to let another group go past us. "I think we - Ginny, who's that?"

Ginny peers past me to see. "Some Slytherin cow," she says with a shrug.

"Who, though?" I demand. "She looks old enough to be a sixth or seventh year, and I thought I knew everyone of that age by sight. I don't recognize her, do you?"

Ginny's eyes narrow. "She didn't go here last year," she says slowly. "I mean, this year - I mean - oh, you know what I mean!"

I look at the Slytherin girl, temporarily trapped by the crowd at the top of the staircase. "What do you reckon?" I whisper.

"One way to find out," Ginny says decisively. Before I realize what she's doing, she calls out, "Talitha Green? Is that you, child?" Her voice is a credible imitation of McGonagall's.

The Slytherin girl turns involuntarily, her expression startled. Before I can make a move she's plunged into the crowd.

"Don't," Ginny whispers urgently, putting her hand on my wand arm. "You might hit someone else."

"Damn it," I say furiously. "It's her - she got in! Come on!"

With Ginny clinging to my hand, I hurry as quickly as possible down the stairs. The Slytherin girl is still making her way through the crowd. I can hear people complaining as she shoves them aside, but they're not protesting too loudly. Evidently the Slytherin colors still carry some weight in the Carrow-ruled Hogwarts world.

_"Impedimento,"_ Ginny whispers. Talitha trips spectacularly, sprawling at the foot of the stairs. I see a couple of Hufflepuffs turn away to hide their smiles.

We manage to catch up just as she's getting to her feet. I've just pulled out my wand when she vanishes.

"What the hell?" Ginny says blankly.

It takes me a second, and then I get it. "Time-Turner," I say grimly. "She's moved ahead - or back - to a different time."

Ginny slumps against me. "Now what?" she asks simply.

"Now we'd better get back to Ron and Hermione," I say. "There's no point in us watching the Willow anymore. She's already here."

**Draco**

With Aberforth's help, I'm disguised as a dark-haired wizard with a long beard. "Check around Hogsmeade first," he tells me. "Then maybe Diagon Alley - or the Ministry. Aloysius doesn't know his way around too many wizarding places - I can't think where else he'd go."

I look at myself in the mirror. No one would ever recognize me like this - not even my own parents. "Right," I say slowly. "Hogsmeade."

"Send me a Patronus if you find anything," Aberforth says, and I turn to face him.

"I can't," I admit. "I've never done one of those."

He stares, but mercifully refrains from comment. "Just bring him back, then," he says gruffly. "I'd go myself if I didn't have this lot to look after." He flaps his hand at the voices coming from the pub, looking annoyed.

"I'd better go down the back stairs," I decide, making my escape. I stroll out into the alley and onto the main street of Hogsmeade. A witch carrying a shopping bag nods at me on her way into Honeydukes.

It makes a nice change from the evil looks I've been getting from people since last summer. No one recognizes me… I could go anywhere right now, and be safe. I could walk away from this whole nightmare and be done with it. The thought's tempting.

_But what about your parents?_ a voice (Clarissa's?) asks in my head. _What about the poor little Creevey kid - and your promise to Potter? And you owe Weasley - he saved your life…_

_Let me alone, Clarissa,_ I say silently, but it's too late. Fine, then. I'll find the Creevey kid, and then I'm through with all this. I'll start a new life under an assumed name - maybe in another country.

I turn determinedly toward Honeydukes and then stop. He's not going to be in there. He's gone to set the record straight, hasn't he? So he can keep whoever-it-is out of trouble. And that can only be one place - the Ministry of Magic.

**Ron**

"What do you want to do with him?" I ask Hermione, holding my wand to Zabini's throat. "Stuff him in that dustbin?"

"What was he doing here?" Hermione asks, looking confused. "I thought he was hiding from Talitha."

I shrug. Who knows, with Zabini? "Maybe we ought to take him along," I say. "He might know something."

"We didn't have him when we got back to Hogwarts," Hermione reminds me.

True enough. "Dustbin it is, then," I say, flicking my wand at the lid to open it.

"No, stop," Hermione says, putting her hand on my arm. "I think you might be right about him knowing something." She considers for a minute. "The cellar in the Shrieking Shack," she decides. "Talitha won't have a chance to get back there - I hope."

Zabini stirs and moans, and I Stun him again, adding a Bodybind Charm for good measure. _"Levicorpus!"_I tell him, and he obediently floats in the air next to us. "Okay, Shrieking Shack first," I tell Hermione, grabbing Zabini's collar. "And you might just as well do a Hover Charm on those bloody books. If any Muggles are watching, they've seen plenty of magic already tonight."

With Zabini safely stowed, we change out of our disguises and Apparate back to the Hog's Head. A slightly confused Dennis lets us in the kitchen door ("I thought you were both in the pub, Ron?"), and we hurry up the stairs without another word.

And then we're back at Hogwarts - and Hermione's turning the hourglass…

"We're still here," I say at once, looking across the lawn. "I can see us under the tree."

"Slow down," Hermione says. She puts her hand on my arm. "I've still got to calculate the new formula, remember?"

I slow my steps obediently, watching as the other Hermione scribbles on the margin of the newspaper. The two of them (of us?) both look in our direction; then I see the Hermione-one take up the Time-Turner. It's rather a relief when they (we) disappear.

"Now it's all right," Hermione says, starting to walk faster.

We take up our places next to the Willow again. There's still no sign of Talitha. "You might read out the rest of that article," I say to Hermione. "Is there a picture of us?"

Hermione's just picked up the paper when we hear footsteps. "She's in there already," Harry's voice says. "There's not a second to lose."

**Rodolphus**

I was careful this time - very careful. _I_ certainly wasn't the one who instigated the riot (although I may have planted the seeds). No one will be able to point a finger at me afterwards and say "It was Lestrange."

I simply bided my time. I _may_ have dropped a suggestion to the guard when he came to escort me to my interview with Gawain Robards. After all, with the head of the Auror Department otherwise occupied, what better time to stage a small protest? Scabior isn't terribly bright, but he's loyal. A word was all it took…

We'd hardly begun when we heard the shouting. "Stay here!" Robards said to me. He took the precaution of putting me in a full Bodybind before leaving, but my good Scabior soon had me out of that. "I unlocked the cells like you said," he whispered to me. "Them Aurors won't know what hit 'em!" He grinned, showing his blackened teeth.

"Aurors?" I said sharply, averting my face from the sight. "Who else is here?"

Scabior shrugged. "Some blonde wench," he offered. "I heard her tell the warden she'd got some important information for Robards. They was on their way in here when all hell broke loose." He grinned again. "She looked to be a tasty little morsel," he confided, breathing heavily.

A blonde… probably no one important. But Scabior's words reminded me of one important fact - the other Aurors would be on their way soon. "Get me out of here, and she's yours," I said.

Scabior looked dubious. "Ah, now that there's going to be a bit tricky," he said. "They're watching the exits, see, and - "

"Then you must create a disturbance elsewhere," I told him. It's little wonder Scabior never advanced beyond his minor role in the Dark Lord's army. His thought processes leave much to be desired.

"A disturbance?" Scabior said, his face blank. "Like what?"

"Grab the blonde," I told him shortly, and his face brightened. "Go!" I hissed, and he went, leaving the door open behind him. I crept slowly to the opening and listened.

Seconds later I heard a loud shriek - Scabior locating his prey, no doubt - and then words that chilled me to the bone. "It's him, Gawain!" a woman's voice shouted. "The one Harry said was a Death Eater. And he was in the room with Lestrange just now!"

_Damn_ Potter - always interfering. There was no time to lose. I ran as fast as I could, losing myself in the depths of the fortress. The doors were locked, of course, but I knew they'd have to be opened when the rest of the Aurors arrived.

And it was as simple as that. I concealed myself in the shadows and managed to slip out as they were coming in. I'd always suspected the Aurors were rather overrated, and now I've seen it for myself. Imbeciles, all of them.

Of course, getting out of the prison is relatively easy. Getting to shore is another matter altogether - especially since I've no wand. Why, why didn't I make Scabior give me his?

"Excuse me," says a hesitant voice behind me, and I nearly jump out of my skin before I realize it's just a young boy. "Are you one of the Aurors?"

"Why?" I demand harshly.

"Because I need to speak to Gawain Robards," the boy says, trembling visibly. "I've come to confess."

Confess? Are would-be prisoners transporting themselves to Azkaban these days? "How did you get here?" I ask suspiciously.

The boy points toward the rocks at the base of the cliff. "There was a boat," he says. "Some people were getting into it, and I just sort of followed them."

"And they didn't notice?" I ask skeptically.

The boy flushes. "I put a Disillusionment Charm on myself," he explains. "Ab - someone I know taught me how. And I don't take up very much room."

Certainly he isn't a _large_ boy, but one would think an _Auror_ might notice. Or perhaps not. As I said before - overrated.

"They were reporters, I think," the boy adds. "One of them said they'd been told to stay on the shore, but the others said it was the scoop of a lifetime - or something like that."

Not Aurors, then. Still, my opinion of them hasn't changed. "Gawain Robards is rather occupied at the moment quelling a prison riot," I tell the boy sternly. "I will accompany you back to shore immediately."

The boy hesitates. "But I need to tell him," he protests. "It's all my fault Ron's in trouble, and he needs a job now that he's gotten married!"

"I'm sure we can work something out," I say smoothly. "Is your boat still here?"

The boy nods. "Are you an Auror, then?" he asks eagerly. "Can you help me?"

"Yes," I lie. "But we must get back to shore at once. I'm on a very important - er - mission for Gawain Robards, and I need to leave without delay." Once we've reached the opposite shore, I'll take his wand and leave him there.

"All right," the boy says, much to my relief. He leads the way down the rocky cliff. "My real name's Dennis," he says over his shoulder. "But lately I've been called Aloysius, so I'm sort of used to that."

Tempting as it is to ask why, I refrain from commenting. "Hurry," I say instead, and Dennis/Aloysius obediently quickens his pace.

**Harry**

"Then she must have come in through the Room of Requirement," Hermione says.

"She couldn't," I argue. "Neville and the others were in there all the time."

"From what Neville said, people were coming and going in that room all the time," Hermione says. "They might not have noticed a strange girl - especially if she disguised herself to look like someone else."

Ginny looks dubious. "She was dressed like a Slytherin when we saw her," she says.

Hermione waves this off. "Easy enough to change," she says briskly. She eyes both of us. "You didn't actually go into the room, did you?"

"No," I admit. "We just made sure the door wasn't showing or anything."

"There you are, then," Hermione says.

Ginny's eyes meet mine. "It must be how she did it," she says after a minute. She looks annoyed. "If only we'd tried to open that damned Room, we could have caught her."

"If she was disguised, you would've just thought she was someone else," Ron points out. He looks at Hermione. "What do you reckon, then? Go back to last night and trap her in the passage?"

"I don't know," Hermione says slowly. "She already knows you've spotted her."

"She doesn't," Ginny protests. "I sounded exactly like McGonagall. Didn't I, Harry?"

I nod. "And I don't think it would've made Talitha suspicious," I say. "If she looked anything like she did as a first-year, McGonagall probably would have recognized her - and she _definitely_ would have called out to her."

"Did she?" Hermione demands at once. "Look like she did as a first-year, I mean."

I shrug helplessly. "She didn't look like she did when she was being Miranda," I offer. I look down, noticing the stack of books for the first time. "Where'd those come from?"

"We went back to Talitha's flat," Ron says.

I stare at him. "You left the passage unguarded?"

"Well, it didn't matter, did it?" Ron says logically. "Anyway, we were here the whole time. We saw ourselves coming back - that's how we knew it was all right to leave. We'd already come back safely, d'you see?"

_Not really._ I think about it only briefly before deciding to let this one go. "Right," I say, still confused. "Anyway, you got the books - and obviously Talitha wasn't there."

"_She_ wasn't, but Blaise Zabini was," Ron says. He grins at me. "We've got him tied up in the cellar of the Shrieking Shack any time you want to have a go at him, Harry."

"Are you mad?" Ginny demands. "The Shrieking Shack's practically been crawling with Death Eaters for the past year."

"Which is why we decided to put him there ten years ago," Ron says, looking pleased with himself. "Nobody was bothering about the Shack then - it was after Lupin used it and before Sirius was hiding there." He touches the chain around Hermione's neck. "They come in useful, Time-Turners," he adds.

I hardly know where to start. "Zabini's not going to talk to any of us," I say finally. "Maybe Malfoy can get something out of him. But first I think we'd better go back a few hours and see if we can stop Talitha - only maybe we'd better have a look through these books before that and see if we can find out how to use Slytherin's orb - only - "

"Let's you and I go back and get Malfoy while Ron and Hermione do the books," Ginny suggests, but Hermione's shaking her head.

"We shouldn't be separated in time," she says decisively. "It's much too dangerous. Someone could get trapped in the wrong year."

_They_ just did it - but Ron said they saw themselves come back first, didn't he? "Fine," I say. "Well, Zabini'll keep. Let's go back to our own year and have a look through those books of Talitha's. Then we can come back to this time and wait in the passage to catch Talitha."

Hermione holds out the golden chain and we all duck our heads underneath it.

**Draco**

Level Two's almost completely deserted. A man rounding the corner sees me looking despairingly at the empty desks in the Auror Office. "They're all at Azkaban taking care of that riot business," he informs me. "Most of Magical Law Enforcement's gone, too, I shouldn't wonder." He eyes me dubiously. "Anything I can help you with? I work with Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, strictly speaking, but - "

"No, that's okay," I say quickly. "It wasn't anything important." I turn and hurry away before he can ask me anything else. Weasley's father used to do that job, didn't he? I don't want to run into him - not that he'd be able to recognize me, but still…

I find myself out on the street without a clear plan. The kid wouldn't have tried to go to Azkaban - would he? Or would he?

I try to talk myself out of it, but it's no use. I'm going to have to look for that damned kid at Azkaban. I can only hope he couldn't get in.

**Ron**

The Room of Requirement still looks like a sitting room - maybe because we've brought our own books this time. The only difference is that now there's a tea-tray with four cups and plates of sandwiches and cakes. I head for it straight off. So do Harry and Ginny, but Hermione drops down on one of the sofas and picks up a book.

She'd never eat properly if I didn't keep after her. I bring her a cup of tea, and she takes it from me without looking up. "Thanks," she says absently. "This one's in Runes, so I thought I'd better take it, but the others are in English - I think."

"Eat something," I tell her, handing over half my sandwich. I wait till I see her take a bite before I pick up the next book from the pile. It's a biography of Slytherin - and it seems to start with the toddler years. I skip ahead till I find the part when he's left Hogwarts. Some of his students followed him - that's where old Enoch Temporis comes in. "This just says Enoch did experiments with time," I report. "It doesn't say how."

"Try this one," Ginny says, handing me an even thicker book. I take it from her without much enthusiasm. Maybe I'd better have another sandwich first - just to keep my strength up.

"Don't bother," Hermione says, and I freeze with my hand hovering over the plate. Don't bother what - eating? But she's looking at the book in my other hand.

"I've got it," she says, tapping the page in front of her. "It all makes sense now." 


	25. Chapter 25

**Harry**

The rest of us crowd around her. "You've found something about the orb? Does it give the incantation?" I ask eagerly. I bend down to look at the book in her hands, even though I can't read Runes and she's obviously going to have to translate.

"Slytherin's house-elf was called Ruffin," Hermione says. "It says so right here." She taps the page again for emphasis.

Oh, for… I know how Hermione feels about house-elves, but who the hell cares what Slytherin's one was called?

"Well, that's interesting and all, love," Ron says carefully. "But - "

"Ruffin," Hermione continues, looking straight at him, "was the great, great, great - well, ancestor, anyway, of another elf called Prudey."

Ron frowns. "Prudey," he says slowly. "That sounds familiar, for some reason."

"It ought to," Hermione says, waiting.

Ron shrugs helplessly.

"Didn't you ever read the book you gave me?" Hermione demands.

"That's it!" Ron says, his brow clearing. "Prudey's the one that wrote that house-elf diary."

"I said you ought to read it for yourself, remember?" Hermione says.

"Yeah, well," Ron says, his eyes meeting mine. "I - er - didn't want to take it in case you weren't quite finished with it yet."

Ginny muffles a giggle. "Did Prudey know anything about Slytherin's orb?" she asks, recovering.

"As a matter of fact, she did," Hermione says. "Only I didn't quite realize what she was talking about at the time. But now that I see the connection - oh, it all makes sense now!"

I sit down on the edge of the sofa. "Do you think you could Summon that book here?"

"No need - she's already got it memorized," Ron says in a low voice, but Hermione's already answering.

"I know exactly what it said," she answers. "And I'll tell you one thing, Harry. You mustn't use that orb of Slytherin's under any circumstances. It'll kill you."

**Draco**

It's bitterly cold here, a million times worse than it was in Hogsmeade. The wind off the water cuts right through my cloak like I'm not even wearing one. I look out across the waves at the prison, standing alone on a rock. You can't Apparate out there - you've got to take a boat. I remember Mother telling me that much. She never would say much about Azkaban, and she wouldn't let me go with her to visit Father, but I do remember her saying she was frightened there might be sharks. I'm not a big fan of sharks myself, come to that - but since there doesn't seem to be a boat anywhere about, I'll just have to -

Damn. What's that? It looks like - oh, bloody hell, it's a boat, isn't it? I can just about make out two figures in it, and it looks like it's heading this way. It's going quite fast, as a matter of fact.

It occurs to me that there are a number of people at Azkaban that I'd just as soon not run into - disguised or not. I duck behind a large rock. I'll just wait here for whoever it is to disembark, and then I expect I'm going to have to get in that bloody boat and go looking for that idiot Dennis. He's already become far more trouble than he's worth, and for two Knuts I'd hand him straight over to Adrian Pucey.

I don't dare look again, but it sounds like the boat's coming closer. Soon I hear it scraping against the sand.

"Had we better tie it up, do you think?" a familiar voice says. "Or send it back for those reporters? It probably belongs to them, doesn't it?"

Dennis! I'm about to come out from behind the rock when I hear another voice answer him. It's a sound that stops me dead.

"Reporters be damned," my uncle Rodolphus says coldly. "They're the bane of my existence. Let them swim back to shore."

I edge carefully to one side so I can get a look at them. Rodolphus is bent down, looking at something on the beach. Dennis, oblivious, is attempting to tie the boat to a rock with a length of seaweed.

I move a little closer to see what Rodolphus is doing. He's picked up a large rock, and as I watch, he moves silently behind Dennis and raises the rock in both hands and -

I don't even realize I'm going to Stun him until I've done it. Dennis whirls around at the sound of Rodolphus's body hitting the sand. His eyes widen and he pulls out his wand, pointing it at me.

"Don't come any closer," he warns in a shrill voice. "I'll - I'll hex you!"

"Dennis, it's me," I say. "Draco Malfoy."

"It's not," Dennis says. "You don't look anything like Malfoy. And anyway, he thinks my name is Aloysius."

"I'm in disguise, idiot!" I say impatiently. "And Aberforth told me your real name. He's worried about you."

Dennis's eyes narrow. "Prove you're Malfoy," he says.

How the hell am I supposed to do that? I suppose I could get rid of the disguise, but I'm not entirely sure I could put it back on again. I think for a minute. "Talitha kidnapped me and Granger and left us in the cellar of the Shrieking Shack," I say at last.

"Not good enough," Dennis says stubbornly. "Anyone on Talitha's side would've known that."

"Yeah, but do they know Weasley came and rescued us because a house-elf brought him there?" I demand triumphantly. "At least - I think that's how it happened." I frown, thinking about it. Weasley never came right out and said the house-elf was the one that approached him, did he? He sort of glossed right over that bit - at least, in front of me. But if it wasn't the house-elf…

I stare at Dennis. "_You_ were the one who told Weasley where to find us!" I say triumphantly. "And he wouldn't turn you in to Robards because you were on the run - and that's why you're feeling guilty!"

Dennis's face crumples. "I can't let him lose his job over me," he says.

I don't see why not - I mean, it's only Weasley, and I doubt he'd be much of a loss to the Auror Department. But Dennis clearly has his mind made up. "He won't," I say impatiently. "Come on, I've got to bring you back to the Hog's Head."

"No," Dennis says stubbornly. "I'm going to turn myself in to the Aurors." He looks down at Rodolphus, still lying motionless in the sand. "He's one of them, you know," he says. "You've attacked an Auror. You're going to be in even more trouble than I am."

"He's not an Auror, you little git!" I snap. "That's Rodolphus Lestrange."

Dennis's expression almost makes me want to laugh, except that I'm seriously annoyed with him. "It - it is?" he whispers. "Are you sure?"

"Look at the rock in his hand," I say. "He was just about to hit you with it when I Stunned him."

Dennis looks from Rodolphus to me, wide-eyed. "You saved my life," he says.

"No, I didn't," I say quickly, but it's too late. He's trying to hug me.

"Don't," I warn, stepping back out of his reach. "Or I'll Stun you, too."

"No, you wouldn't," Dennis says, giving me a wide smile. "You pretend not to like me, but I reckon you must, or you wouldn't have come after me and saved my life."

I'm saved from answering by Rodolphus, who lets out a groan and stirs faintly. I Stun him again quickly.

"A Bodybind would work better," Dennis says, watching me.

Little know-it-all, isn't he? _"Petrificus totalus,"_ I say. I move closer to Rodolphus, flipping him over with my foot. I'd like to kick him into the sea. Everything that's happened to me since last summer is his fault. If it hadn't been for him approaching me at Hogwarts, I'd never be standing on this beach with a runaway Muggle-born right now. I wouldn't be mixed up with Potter's lot; wouldn't have had to take that bloody awful job at the Ministry… and Clarissa would still be alive. She'd never have met me, and she'd still be alive…

Dennis is still watching me. "He's not worth it, you know," he says.

I look up, startled. "You don't know what you're talking about," I say harshly.

"You think I didn't want to track down the Death Eater that killed Colin?" Dennis asks. "My only brother's dead, and I can't ever go back home again. But it wouldn't bring Colin back if I killed him - and it wouldn't make Mum and Dad understand that I have to be what I am."

I stare silently down at Rodolphus, not answering.

"Look, we'll just hide him somewhere and then we can tell the Aurors where he is," Dennis says coaxingly. "He'll go back to prison - probably forever." He looks out over the gray sea and shivers. "I don't know but that I'd rather be dead than have to spend the rest of my life in Azkaban."

I force myself to turn away. "All right," I say roughly. "Where do you want to hide him?"

Dennis looks consideringly along the rocky shoreline. "There's a sort of cave over there," he says, pointing. "If we stuffed him inside and heaped seaweed over the entrance, I don't think anybody'd see him."

I grab Rodolphus by the ankles and start hauling him up the beach, making sure to bounce him off a few rocks along the way. "And before you say it, I _know_ I could do a Locomotor Charm," I tell Dennis. "I - I'd rather do it this way, all right?"

"All right," Dennis says cheerfully. "Will I take one of his ankles and help you?"

Dennis's cave isn't exactly a proper one - it's more of an indentation in the rocks than anything else. But it'll do. "_Accio_ seaweed," I say, ducking out of the way as a big heap of it comes flying. "Right, we'll just - what's that?"

I lean closer to see. There's a piece of parchment sticking out of the pocket of Rodolphus's cloak.

"_Consistomundus_," I read aloud, frowning.

Dennis looks mystified. "Who's he?"

"I don't think it's anyone's name," I say grimly. I look down at the parchment again, wondering if it's got anything to do with Talitha and whatever the hell it is that Potter won't talk about in front of me.

"I'll search his other pockets," Dennis offers helpfully, but there's nothing.

"Come on," I say, kicking a last piece of seaweed over Rodolphus. "Let's get out of here."

"I'm not going back to the Hog's Head," Dennis warns.

"Fine," I say exasperated. "I'll leave you at the Ministry. You can bloody well wait around for an Auror to show up."

Dennis gives me a sunny smile. "I won't mind doing that," he says. "But you can't tell Aberforth or Harry or Ron or Hermione or Ginny where I am."

I roll my eyes. "Anyone else?"

Dennis opens his mouth to answer, and I grab his arm. "Never mind," I say. "We're going." Before he can say another word, I Disapparate, taking him with me.

**Hermione**

I don't know why I never put the two things together - except that Prudey's way of telling a story was rather roundabout, and she didn't exactly always make sense. But there's no doubt in my mind that Prudey's "many-greats-ago Grandfather" who worked for "the clever one" saw Slytherin's orb in action. Prudey told a long, meandering tale of a powerful wizard who wanted to do something she (and Ruffin) clearly disapproved of, even though she never named it. A friend created a spell of some sort for him, but when he attempted to test it out, he collapsed on the spot and was immediately pronounced dead by the disappointed wizard. Poor Ruffin was pressed into action to help conceal the body, and "many lies were told", according to Prudey.

"So you think the one who died was Enoch Temporis?" Harry asks doubtfully.

"I'm sure of it," I say. "Think about it, Harry - it all fits. Ruffin and Prudey wouldn't have approved of trying to stop time, because it goes against Magical Law. And Enoch Temporis - well, that explains what happened to him, doesn't it?"

"Poor old Enoch," Ron says. "But I reckon it was better than being lost in time forever."

Harry's still not convinced. "Then why didn't Slytherin destroy it?" he demands. "He didn't just keep it, he wore the bloody thing like a medal!"

Don't ask _me_ why Slytherin did anything. Hogwarts founder or not, he must have been a highly unpleasant man. I always think of him as rather like Lucius Malfoy - only much more intelligent, of course. "Maybe he found a way to make it work," I answer, shrugging. "Or maybe he thought it was a useful way to get rid of people quickly. But it's obviously very dangerous."

Ginny looks worried. "Maybe you ought to get rid of it," she says to Harry.

"It's not doing any harm where it is," Harry answers. He looks at me. "What's-her-name - Prudey - she said Enoch Temporis only died when he tried to use it, didn't she?"

I nod, wishing I had the book here. For a moment I wonder if I really could Summon it. I can picture it clearly on my bedside table - right where I left it after I brought it home from… oh, damn.

"What?" Ron says, watching my face.

"Talitha," I whisper. "She read my house-elf book, too - or part of it, anyway. I remember coming back from lunch one day and finding her with it. I didn't think anything of it at the time - she just said she was bored, so she'd picked it up…"

Ginny frowns. "If she read the same book you did, then why's she trying to get the orb?" she asks. "She must know it'll kill her."

"She may not have read that far," I say. "Prudey tells the story in pieces, and it's all interspersed with these little side-comments - oh, you know how they talk!"

The others nod. "Sort of in circles, you mean," Ron says. I see him and Harry exchange a look.

"What?" I ask, but they both shake their heads.

"Nothing," Harry says quickly. He looks at his watch. "Well, if we aren't going to use Slytherin's orb, maybe we'd better go back and try to stop Talitha without it."

"Where do you think we ought to hide?" Ginny asks. "In the passage - or here in the Room of Requirement?"

"The passage," I say. "The Room was awfully crowded - we're bound to knock into someone."

**Ron**

"What if she gets past us?" Harry says at once. "Or what if she came in another way?"

"There _is_ no other way," Hermione says, but I think Harry might have a point.

"You and Ginny wait in the passage," I say to him. "Let Hermione and I take your Cloak, and we'll wait in the seventh-floor corridor just outside the door to the Room."

Harry looks undecided. I can tell he's thinking he ought to take the most dangerous spot for himself, but he can't decide which one it is.

"If someone accidentally sees me or Ron at Hogwarts, they might think it's a bit odd," Hermione points out. "But if they see you, Harry - it could change everything that happened afterwards."

Killing Voldemort, she means. "Wait a minute," I say, frowning. "You can't be seen at Hogwarts either, Hermione. Muggle-borns weren't allowed last year." Now I don't want her to come with me - but I don't want to leave her, either.

"Ron, no one's going to see me," Hermione says impatiently. "We're going to be under the Cloak. And, anyway - " She hesitates.

"Anyway what?" Ginny asks.

"I don't think Snape would let them hurt me," Hermione says quietly. "And they'd bring me straight to him, wouldn't they?"

"He might try to make it look good in front of the Carrows," I argue, but Harry's nodding.

"Snape would have known I needed Hermione to help me figure everything out," he says.

"Anyway, _you're_ no safer, blood traitor!" Ginny says to me.

Good point. "We do Disillusionment Charms under the Cloak," I tell Hermione. "And you don't leave my side for any reason. Right?"

Hermione looks amused for some reason - I can't think why. "Fine," she says, turning toward the mantel. "I think we'd better go inside the passage before we go back in time."

The falling backwards sensation is more familiar this time, but I still don't like it. We leave Harry and Ginny at the far end of the passage and make our way toward the Room of Requirement.

We do the Charms and put the Cloak on before we go in, but we needn't have bothered. The Room's dark, and someone's snoring. Seamus, it sounds like. I keep a tight grip on Hermione's hand as we wind our way in between the hammocks. There must be eight or ten people in here. Lucky for us they didn't think to have someone keep watch.

We're nearly at the door when I accidentally bump into someone.

"Ow," Michael Corner says. "Who's that?"

"Sorry," I whisper, trying my best to sound like Neville. "Just coming back from the bathroom."

"Well, light your wand," Michael says grumpily and turns over. Hermione and I wait till his breathing slows before we dare to move again. I've never been so glad to get to a door in my life.

_"Muffliato!"_ Hermione whispers, the second we're outside. Grown pretty attached to that charm for someone who said it wasn't legal, hasn't she? She looks up at me anxiously. "We've got some time before she gets here," she says.

That sounds familiar, doesn't it? Shame we forgot to bring the newspaper this time. We position ourselves against the wall facing the door, and I pull Hermione up against me.

"Why did you and Harry give each other that funny look?" she asks at once.

Women. Don't they ever miss anything? I'm pretty sure Harry was thinking the same thing I was - that maybe we ought to just hand over the orb to Talitha and let her take herself out of the way. But I can't say that to Hermione.

"I don't remember," I lie. "Why don't you tell me the story about Prudey's grandfather again?"

She's just gotten started when the door to the Room eases open slowly. Hermione and I move forward silently, wands out. But it's just Seamus. I reckon we must have woken him when I bumped into Michael. He looks carefully in either direction before slipping out and closing the door behind him.

I watch as he hurries down the corridor toward the stairs. I wonder what he's up to? Maybe he's off to do some of that DA graffiti Neville was talking about. I'm half-tempted to follow him and see, but we've got to stay here.

Hermione nudges me. "You'd better let Harry know where we are," she says.

Oh yeah. I pull the mirror from my pocket.

**Harry**

"I still can't believe they're married," Ginny says, watching Ron and Hermione disappear down the passage.

"It did happen sort of unexpectedly," I admit.

"It's not just that," Ginny says. "I'm reasonably fond of Ron, even if he is my second-most annoying brother, but I can't imagine wanting to marry him."

"It would be pretty weird if you could," I point out, but Ginny shakes her head.

"Not at all," she argues. "For instance, I don't have any trouble understanding why someone would want to marry Bill - but _Ron_?" She eyes me. "I know he's your best friend, Harry, but can you honestly see him as someone's husband?"

I think about it for a minute. "Only as Hermione's," I say finally. I look at her teasingly. "What about me?" I can't help asking. "Can you imagine anyone ever wanting to marry me?"

Even in the dim light of the passage I can see Ginny's blushing. "Dozens of people," she says lightly.

I've just opened my mouth to answer (even though I've no idea what I'm going to say next) when we hear the footsteps. Ginny's eyes meet mine. "She's coming!" she whispers, almost soundlessly.

We take up positions on opposite sides of the passage and wait, hearts pounding. "Wait till we see who it is," I mouth at Ginny, and she nods. We both know there's a good chance that any number of DA members could be coming up and down this passage - although hopefully the fact that it's an hour before dawn will keep the traffic to a minimum.

The footsteps don't sound like a girl's, though. They're heavier - and they're coming closer. Ginny and I flatten ourselves against the walls. I can just barely make out her outline, and I hope that our Disillusionment Charms will be sufficient to hide us in this dim light.

I raise my wand, watching as Ginny does the same across from me. The word _Expelliarmus_ is on my lips when I see him - almost too late.

"Bloody Seamus," Ginny whispers, when he's safely past us. "Why couldn't he stay in the Room? Suppose she doesn't come now?"

"She has to come," I remind her. "We already saw her there." I hear Ron's voice and pull out the mirror.

"We're through," Ron says. "Any sign of her?"

"Nope," I say. "We thought she was coming through, but it turned out to be Seamus. We nearly - Ron? What's going on?"

"Damn it," Ron's saying furiously. "Hermione, that was _her_! Come on!"

And then there's silence.

**Hermione**

"What?" I say, startled. "Who - but the only one we've seen is Seamus!"

"That," Ron says grimly, "was not Seamus." He's pulling me at a run down the corridor, the Cloak flying behind us.

Polyjuice again. But how did Ron know? "Down the stairs," I whisper. "Which floor was she on when Harry and Ginny saw her?"

Ron shrugs, taking a firmer grip on my hand as we rush down the stairs. "Dunno," he whispers back. "Does it matter? It was later than this when they saw her."

"We'll just have to check every floor, then," I say.

But as it turns out, we don't have to. Someone who looks like an odd cross between Seamus Finnegan and Talitha has been cornered by Crabbe and Goyle on the fifth floor landing.

"It's already wearing off," Ron whispers. He must suspect Polyjuice, too - although I suppose it's rather obvious at this point.

"Who the hell are you?" Crabbe's asking suspiciously. "And what are you doing out of bed?"

Talitha looks more annoyed than frightened.

"Take your hands off me at once," she says in a voice that sounds like a higher-pitched version of Seamus's. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

Crabbe's expression is almost funny. He looks at Goyle, open-mouthed. "Did you hear what this git just said to me?" he demands incredulously.

"He said, do you have any idea who you're dealing with," Goyle repeats dully. Then his jaw drops as the words hit home. He raises a threatening fist. "You can't talk to us like that!"

"Hang on," Crabbe says, frowning uncertainly. "This bloke's hair keeps changing!" He glares at Talitha. "What're you doing to it, then?"

Talitha's hair is darkening - and growing longer, as she changes back into herself.

"I've got a clear shot," Ron whispers beside me and raises his wand. A second later, Crabbe's flat on his back.

Goyle stares at him, perplexed. "Crabbe?" he says. "What're you doing down there?" It's the last thing he says before joining his friend on the floor.

Ron dusts off his wand, grinning at me. "I always did want to do that," he whispers.

Talitha is frozen to the spot. She looks up, obviously trying to figure out what happened, then turns and starts to run.

Ron raises his wand again, but I stop him. "Oh, no," I whisper. "This one's mine."

He grins at me again and steps aside.

And it's really rather satisfying to Stun someone so hard you lift them off the ground, isn't it? Particularly when it's someone who's kidnapped you twice, threatened your friends, and made disparaging remarks about your fiance.

I lean over the banister to admire my work. "_Accio_ Talitha's wand," I say, tucking it into my pocket when it reaches me.

"Nice one," Ron says admiringly. "Come on, we'd better get her out of here before people start waking up."

I look down at Talitha dubiously. She looks completely like herself now. "How?" I ask. "We can't possibly take her back through the Room of Requirement. Even with a Hover Charm, we're bound to knock her into something - or someone."

Ron looks down, too. "There's the front door," he offers. "If we can get out across the lawn, we could take her out that passage under the Willow."

"Not today, we can't," I say. "It's last year, remember? We don't know who we're liable to find at the Shrieking Shack."

"It'll have to be the Room, then," Ron says matter-of-factly. "It'll be all right - I guess. Don't Petrify her," he adds, as I point my wand in Talitha's direction. "We'll have a hell of a time getting her round corners if she's all stiff."

I settle for Conjuring some silver ropes and ordering them to bind themselves around her. "You might do a Silencing Charm, too," Ron says, watching me. "Be a bit awkward if she came round and started screaming, wouldn't it?"

I don't think she'd scream, but then again… I do the Silencing Charm.

Below us, Crabbe stirs feebly. "_Locomotor_ Talitha," Ron whispers quickly. "Come on, let's get out of here!"

We've just started up the stairs when we hear footsteps above us. I look at Ron, panicked. We're invisible, thanks to the Cloak, but there's no way to conceal Talitha, floating dreamily alongside us.

**Ron**

The footsteps are right over our heads for a minute, but then they seem to fade. "They've gone down the sixth floor corridor," I whisper to Hermione. "Come on, maybe we can get up the stairs before they come back."

"Will she fit under the Cloak with us?" Hermione asks, pointing at Talitha.

I doubt it - and anyway, I don't want Talitha that close to Hermione, unconscious or not. I decide to ignore the question. "Hurry," I say instead, taking a firmer hold of Hermione's hand.

We pause outside the Room of Requirement. "You'd better tell Harry we're coming," Hermione says, leaning against the wall to catch her breath.

Bloody hell - I forgot all about Harry. He's probably wondering what's going on. I pull out my mirror. "Harry?" I say into it. "We've got her. We're coming back through."

It's a second before Harry's face appears in the glass. I can just barely see him because of the Disillusionment Charm, but he looks like he's been running or something. His hair's even more all over the place than it usually is. "Where are you?" he demands. He sounds almost as out of breath as Hermione.

"Hogwarts," I say, surprised. Where the hell did he think we were?

"_Where_ in Hogwarts?" Harry says.

Oh. "Outside the Room, about to go in," I explain.

"Well, you weren't there a minute ago," Harry says.

"No, we were - " I stop. "How do you know?"

"Because Ginny and I are on the sixth floor," Harry says. "Just stay put - we'll be there in a minute."

Hermione looks disapproving when I fill her in. "He shouldn't have come in here," she whispers. "Suppose someone had seen him?"

I probably shouldn't have waited this long to contact him, but things happened so fast. I should've known Harry wouldn't be content to hang about in the passage and wait. "No one did," I say. "Anyway, we can use their help with Talitha."

"_Four_ people and a floating prisoner are going to be a good deal more trouble than _two_," Hermione says. I don't say anything this time because I reckon she's right. But there's nothing else we can do.

**Harry**

"They've got Talitha," I report to Ginny. "They're outside the Room, ready to go back."

"How did she get past us?" Ginny asks, perplexed, and I shrug. Maybe Ron and Hermione can explain that one.

We've got to hurry, but I still hesitate. If I could get to the Room of Hidden Things, maybe hide Ravenclaw's diadem someplace more accessible… I'd be saving Crabbe's life, at least. And Fred - maybe I could do something to stop Fred from dying…

Ginny tugs gently on my arm. I look into her eyes and realize she knows exactly what I'm thinking. "You can't change what happened," she says gently. "Come on, Harry. It's time to go."

I let her lead me up the stairs. Halfway up, Ginny glances down and then puts her hand over her mouth to muffle a snort of laughter. "Looks like Ron and Hermione ran into some old friends," she whispers.

I look down, too. Goyle's trying to sit up. "Hurry," I say to Ginny, and we run the rest of the way.

"There you are," Ron's voice says, sounding relieved. He pulls the Cloak off himself and Hermione and tosses it at me. "You'd better put this on."

I take the Cloak, but I don't put it on yet. "Where's Talitha?"

"Under there," Hermione says, nodding at a tapestry on the wall. I look closer and see there's a large bump in the middle.

"_Accio_ Talitha," Ron says, looking resigned. "I'm tired of her already. Let's hurry up and turn her in."

And that's another thing - where, exactly are we going to turn her in? Certainly not Azkaban - and I haven't heard from Robards yet. I start to say so, and then change my mind. The important thing is getting her out of here. I look doubtfully at the door of the Room. "We're going to have to be really careful," I start.

"Or," Ginny says, "we could just go back to our own proper time and go back then, when there's no one in the Room."

I lean over and kiss her. "Ginny," I say. "You're brilliant."

**Draco**

"Told you there wouldn't be anyone there," I say to Dennis as we turn away from the empty Auror Department.

"There must be somebody I can turn myself in to," Dennis argues. "What about that guard in the Atrium?"

The Atrium guards are pretty nearly useless, as far as I can tell, but there are other people in the corridor waiting by the lift so I don't say so.

" - _told_ him they ought to wait and do it properly, but when has he ever listened to me?" one of them's saying as we walk up.

"It was a bit of a shock to see it in this morning's paper," the other one says. "Your mother - "

Dennis grabs my arm. "Isn't that Ron's brother?" he demands in a carrying whisper. "The one who used to be Head Boy?"

Oh, bloody hell. Percy Weasley - the only person at Hogwarts who ever annoyed me more than Granger - and I've had to see him twice in two days. And that's his father with him. I start to turn back; then remember my disguise. They won't know who I am - as long as this little git next to me doesn't go and call me by name.

In any case, it's already too late. The two men by the lift have already heard Dennis. Percy Weasley preens slightly and offers him a condescending smile.

"Indeed I am," he says. "You were at the Hog's Head last night, weren't you? I'm afraid I never caught your name."

"I'm Dennis Creevey," Dennis says. "I expect you've been looking for me."

Percy Weasley looks like he's been struck by a thunderbolt. His father comes to the rescue. "Dennis, is it," he says, holding out his hand. "I'm Arthur Weasley, and I see you already know my son Percy." He turns to me expectantly, but fortunately Dennis is already talking again.

"Oh, good, you're Ron's dad," he says eagerly. "Because I need to turn myself in to someone so Ron doesn't lose his job on account of me, and since there's no one in the Auror Department, I expect you'd be the best person."

Arthur Weasley looks surprised, but not unduly so. I suppose when you have a litter as big as the Weasleys do, after a while nothing throws you. "It sounds like this is rather a long story, Dennis," he says after a moment. "Perhaps you'd better come home with me and explain it properly. Then we'll decide what to do."

Percy looks aghast. "Dad, you can't take him home," he says furiously. "He's a wanted criminal." He glares at Dennis. "If I'd known who you were last night - " he starts.

"I'm not harboring a fugitive, Percy," Arthur Weasley says mildly. "I just want to get to the bottom of this story." He looks at Dennis. "What about it, son? Will you come with me?"

"Yes, please," Dennis says, looking relieved.

Good - that's him sorted. I start to melt away unobtrusively.

"Hang on," Arthur Weasley calls after me. "Who are you? Are you connected with young Dennis here?"

I shake my head. "I'm no one," I say. "I just showed him the way here." I turn and hurry back down the corridor before he can say anything else.

I take a seat in the empty Auror Office next to Persimmon's desk. She's only the secretary, after all - it's not likely they'll have sent her off to Azkaban to help quell a riot. She's probably just off on an errand or something. I'll wait here till she comes back. 

**Harry**

The remains of breakfast are still on the table at Grimmauld Place - and there's still no sign of Kreacher.

"It hasn't been nearly as long as you think," Hermione reminds me. "We only just got up - even though it feels like it was days ago." She covers her mouth to hide a yawn.

"Don't, you'll get all of us started," Ron says, putting his arm around her. "Let's have breakfast over again and then go back to bed."

"We'd better do something with _her_, first," Ginny says, pointing to Talitha.

I consider. "Wine cellar," I say at last. "It's got a lock on it."

"She's not going to wake up," Hermione says firmly. "That Sleeping Charm I just put on her is the same one she used on me and Wilfred Sikes."

"_Locomotor_ Tal - " I start, but Ginny stops me.

"The Time Turner," she reminds us.

I lift the gold chain from around Talitha's neck and hand it to Ginny. "Put this someplace safe," I tell her.

Ron and I steer Talitha's floating body down the stairs to the wine cellar. Ron looks around appreciatively. "There's some of that same champagne we had last night," he remarks. "Maybe we ought to - is that a spider's web?" Without a backward look, he hurries up the stairs.

I stifle a laugh and follow him after making sure there's no way Talitha can get out. I leave her sleeping peacefully on the floor next to a cask of wine, still bound by the silver cords.

"What I don't understand," Ginny's saying as I re-enter the kitchen, "is how you knew that wasn't Seamus."

"Because I'd just heard him snoring in the Room of Requirement," Ron answers. "You don't share a dormitory for six years with someone and not learn how to recognize their snore."

"Lucky for us Seamus was such a noisy sleeper," I say, joining them at the table. "Any answer from Perdita yet, Ron?"

Ron shakes his head, looking worried. I haven't had any response to the message I sent to Robards, either.

"Likely they're just busy with the riot and all," Ginny says comfortingly, but I see her and Hermione exchange an anxious look.

"I think we ought to send a message to Aberforth, too," Hermione says. "He's probably worried. I can't think where he could have been when we came back."

"Feeding the goats," I say, pulling out my wand to send the message. "We're going back over there as soon as we get a few hours of sleep anyway." I look around. "Are those eggs ready yet?"

We're just finishing our second breakfast when the doorbell rings.

We stare at each other, frozen. No one ever comes here - well, hardly anyone.

"That'll be Mum and Dad," Ginny says, pointing an accusing piece of toast at her brother. "Count on it - they've seen this morning's _Prophet_!"

Ron turns pale. "Come on," Hermione says resolutely. "We'd better get it over with."

Ginny and I follow them up the stairs, but at a safe distance. "Best to let Mum get most of it out of her system," Ginny whispers to me.

"It might be someone else," I say, but of course it isn't. Mrs. Weasley, flanked on either side by Fleur and - Merlin help us, Auntie Muriel - is standing on the doorstep.

"On second thought," Ginny says, backing hastily down the stairs again, "maybe we ought to let Ron and Hermione handle this on their own."

I might not have agreed so quickly if Auntie Muriel hadn't been with them. "She doesn't _look_ pregnant," she's saying loudly as they cross the hall. "Mind, with ankles like that - "

Ginny muffles a snort of laughter against my shoulder. "Now, Auntie," Mrs. Weasley starts, but Muriel's oblivious.

"What sort of wedding d'you call that, Ronald? I had the shock of my life when I opened the paper this morning. Although I must say Rita Skeeter did a lovely job - I always do like her writing."

"Why'd you bring her?" Ron mutters to his mother.

"I hadn't any choice," Mrs. Weasley says in a low voice. "She was on the doorstep of the Burrow before your father'd even finished his breakfast. And Fleur - "

Fleur turns at the sound of her own name. "I 'ave come to 'elp 'Ermione with 'er wedding, of course!" she says. "Just because she is not as beautiful as I am does not mean that she should not even _try_ to be a bride!"

There's a choking sound from Hermione's direction. "Come on, we'd better go and help," Ginny says reluctantly. "Hermione looks like she's about to explode."

Our entrance goes completely unnoticed. "Who married you?" Mrs. Weasley's demanding. "Ernie who? Ernie MacMillan? But he's just a _child_; that's not a proper wedding at all!" She throws a triumphant look at Fleur and Muriel. "They aren't really married," she states firmly. "We'll call this business tonight an engagement party and tell the _Prophet_ it was all a misunderstanding!"

"Mum, we _are_ really married!" Ron says loudly. He turns to Muriel. "And my wife has gorgeous ankles!"

"Ron, really," Hermione says, blushing, but she looks pleased.

Muriel ignores this. "I suppose you'll be looking for your own home now, Ronald," she remarks, looking disparagingly around the sitting room. "You can't go on sponging off the Potter boy now that you're a married man - it doesn't look right."

Ron's ears turn red. "Where's Mr. Weasley?" Hermione asks quickly. "Isn't he coming?"

"That's another thing," Mrs. Weasley answers, looking put-upon. "Arthur promised he'd meet me here. I can't think what's keeping him."

Ginny nudges me and I clear my throat. "Hi, Mrs. Weasley," I say. I nod at Fleur and reluctantly turn to Auntie Muriel. I'm not supposed to have met her before.

"Harry, this is our Aunt Muriel," Ginny says smoothly.

Muriel gives me a piercing look. "So this is the famous Harry Potter," she says, not offering to shake hands. "Skinny, isn't he? I'm glad he found the time to attend _your_ so-called wedding, Ronald, even though he never bothered to show up at poor Bill's!"

I can't even defend myself, since I wasn't officially there. Muriel's not listening, anyway. "You'd think Harry Potter might offer an old woman a cup of tea," she says. "Or don't the rich and famous believe in hospitality?"

I can feel my face getting red. "I'll make some," Hermione says, clearly dying for an excuse to get out of the room.

"I'll help you," Ron says quickly.

Mrs. Weasley fixes him with a look. "I haven't finished with you yet," she warns. "And as for you, Hermione - well, I'm not blaming _you_, dear. I'm sure Ron talked you into it. But your poor mother's going to be heartbroken."

Hermione stops in her tracks. "My - my mother?" she says uncertainly.

"Mum's good, isn't she?" Ginny whispers to me. "They could use her on the Wizengamut."

"Every mother dreams of seeing her daughter as a bride," Mrs. Weasley says, throwing a fond look at Ginny. "And being Muggles, I suppose your parents can't be expected to reach England in time to attend tonight's celebration?"

Hermione looks stricken. "Come on," Ron says, throwing an arm around her and hurrying her from the room. The look he shoots at me and Ginny is nothing short of desperate.

I turn to Mrs. Weasley. "About tonight," I start.

The doorbell rings again, interrupting me.

"That'll be Arthur, at last!" Mrs. Weasley says, looking relieved. "I hope he can talk some sense into those two."

I'm not sure what she expects him to say, but maybe he can handle Muriel. I hurry to answer the door.

**Draco**

"Can I help you?" Persimmon asks, looking startled to see me sitting by her desk.

There's no hint of recognition on her face, and I'm startled myself until I remember my disguise. "Persimmon, it's Draco Malfoy," I whisper.

Persimmon flicks her wand at me. "So it is," she says coolly.

I put my hand to my face and realize I'm back to myself again. "What's happened?" Persimmon's asking. "The house-elf came to see me last night, so I know Hermione's safe. Although I expect I would have known that from this morning's paper, in any case!"

"It was in the paper?" I ask, surprised.

"Hermione and Ron's wedding, dear," Persimmon explains. "Oh, I wish I could have seen it!"

Oh - _that_. "You can go to that reception thing tonight, can't you?" I ask. I certainly hope she can, because it looks like the rest of the Auror Department's out of commission and I don't want to trust the future of the world to the likes of Neville Longbottom.

"What reception?" Persimmon's asking.

I take a deep breath and fill her in on everything that happened last night. "And there's something else you ought to know," I say at the end. "My uncle Rodolphus is tied up in a cave on the shore where the Azkaban boat docks."

"Is he, indeed?" Persimmon says, unperturbed. "I wonder how he got there?"

"I put him there," I say shortly. I haven't said anything about Dennis yet. I'm not sure why - I mean, the little git wanted to turn himself in to the Aurors so it's not like I need to protect him, but -

"Well done," Persimmon says approvingly. "Normally I'd send someone to fetch him, but with Azkaban in such an uproar, I think he'll do very well where he is for the time being. He can't be seen, can he?"

I shake my head. I can't help wondering if anything ever surprises her. Now she's knitting - _knitting_! "Hadn't we better do something?" I ask.

"Oh, yes," Persimmon says calmly. "I think you'd better go back to your friends at the Hog's Head. Harry may require your help."

"They're not my friends," I say honestly. "And no one at the Hog's Head's going to be happy to see me. They all think I'm useless - even Potter."

Persimmon sets her knitting aside and gives me a long look. "Yes," she says. "I know how that feels."

She does? Oh, she must mean because they made her retire. "At least they trust _you_," I say.

"It seems to me you've proven yourself," Persimmon says briskly. "Capturing Rodolphus Lestrange - that's a move his followers won't forgive."

Suddenly I have an idea. Part of me thinks it's the chance to prove myself once and for all, but the other part thinks I'm sticking my neck out for no reason and I'd better forget the whole thing. "Let's go and get him," I say, before I can change my mind. "If we got some information out of him, they'd have to listen to us, wouldn't they?"

Persimmon considers. "Do you know, I think that would be a very good idea," she says.

**Ron**

Hermione's almost in tears by the time we reach the kitchen. I pull her close, inwardly cursing both Mum and Muriel. I hear the doorbell ring, but ignore it. Harry and Ginny can deal with it - I've got my hands full here.

"I never meant to hurt Mum and Dad's feelings," Hermione whispers, trembling. "I - I never even thought. All I thought about was marrying you."

I hate it when she cries - I never know what to do. "It'll be okay," I say, patting her. And even though I know it'll mean weeks of Mum driving us stark, staring mad; not to mention that she'll probably make me wallpaper the broom shed or something on the off-chance that some wedding guest wanders into it, I find myself saying, "Look, we'll do it over again if you want, all right?"

Hermione lifts her head from my shoulder and wipes her eyes on my sleeve. "You mean, get married again?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say.

"But that's silly," Hermione protests. "We're already married. I didn't want a big fuss, and neither did you. No, I think Mum and Dad will be perfectly happy if we just have a little reception later."

"Once all of this other business is out of the way, we'll plan something nice," I say, relieved. "And we're not inviting bloody Muriel." I can't help thinking that with any luck, Hermione's parents might think the reception is our actual wedding. After all, Muggle weddings must be totally different from ours.

"That must have been your dad at the door," Hermione says. "I suppose we'd better go back upstairs. Do I look all right?"

I try to smooth her hair down a little, but it's a lost cause. "You look gorgeous," I say, giving up. "Here, we'd better not forget the tea. I don't want to listen to Muriel if we - "

A sharp crack interrupts me in mid-sentence. "Kreacher has found Winky, sir," Kreacher says from behind me.

Hermione and I both turn. Kreacher's not only found Winky, he's brought her along with him. And by the way she's struggling, I'd guess she didn't much want to come.

**Hermione**

Poor Winky's clearly terrified. "You don't need to hold her like that, Kreacher," I protest. "She won't run away, will you, Winky?"

"Winky must, Miss," Winky pleads. "Winky's mistress told her to stay in the kitchen, and now Winky has disobeyed!"

Her mistress? I wonder if she means Madam Puddifoot. I look at Ron for help.

"She didn't say _which_ kitchen, though, did she, Winky?" he offers. "You're in a kitchen right now, aren't you? So you're not disobeying at all."

Honestly. But Winky frowns uncertainly. "A kitchen it surely is, sir, but Winky doesn't think her mistress would be pleased," she says slowly, looking around.

"It wasn't your fault, Winky," I say firmly. "We'll explain to your mistress if she's angry." _Only we'll make certain we're not disguised as an elderly couple when we do it._

Winky lets out an earsplitting shriek. "Bad idea," Ron whispers.

"All right, we won't go near her," I say hastily. Winky stops screaming. "We just want to ask you some questions," I tell her. "All right?"

Winky looks dubious. Kreacher, still gripping her arms firmly, gives her a threatening shake. "Winky will do as Kreacher's Miss asks," he says.

Oh dear - he's not helping. "Kreacher, I'm so glad you've come back," I say, smiling at him. "Ron's Auntie Muriel is in the sitting room wanting tea, and I know I won't be able to make it to suit her. Do you suppose you could do it?"

Kreacher looks torn, but he prides himself on his tea-making. "Winky will stay here," he orders, letting go of her and shuffling toward the stove.

Winky sniffs. "_Kreacher_ should be cleaning his master's kitchen," she says, looking critically at all of the dishes stacked up on the table. Oh dear, I meant to get to those before he came back.

Kreacher turns around and glares at her, but Ron steps hastily between them. "It's just like Hermione said," he tells Winky. "We only want to ask you some questions."

Winky dives under the table at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. "Look, I've stalled them for as long as I can," Harry's saying as he enters the kitchen. "But you're going to have to - Kreacher! You're back!"

Kreacher turns and bows. "Kreacher has brought Winky, master," he says.

Harry looks confused. Ron points silently under the table.

"Well done, Kreacher!" Harry says. "Oh good, the tea - do you suppose you could bring it upstairs? Tell them Ron and Hermione are on their way." He turns to us and adds, "You're going to have to go up there if you don't want the lot of them down here. Your mum was all for coming to get you."

I look anxiously at the table. Harry bends down. "Winky?" he says, lifting the cloth. "It's me, Harry. You'll talk to me, won't you?"

There's a loud sniffling noise from under the table. "Harry Potter was Dobby's friend," Winky says. "Winky will try to be brave like Dobby."

"There you are," Harry says to us. "Hurry up before Muriel comes down here."

I hate to leave, but he's right. Ron puts his arm around me outside the door to the sitting room. "It'll be all right now that Dad's here," he whispers.

It appears that he's right. Muriel, with a cup of tea balanced precariously on the arm of her chair, is busy interrogating Ginny. "Not living with the Potter boy already, are you, Ginevra?" she demands. "It's one thing for Muggle-born girls to carry on like that, but _you_ were brought up properly."

Mrs. Weasley looks at her daughter suspiciously. "I came for breakfast," Ginny answers breezily. "I don't have practice till this afternoon."

"If you take my advice, you'll put a stop to this Quidditch nonsense, Molly," Auntie Muriel says. "Ginevra's never going to catch a husband that way!"

Mr. Weasley's coming toward us. "My new daughter," he says, putting his arms around me.

I hug him back gratefully. "Thanks for not being angry with us," I whisper.

"Angry?" Mr. Weasley whispers back. "My dear, you were at the Burrow before Bill's wedding. I'd like to thank both of you for not putting me through that again."

Ron grins at his father. "About this reception tonight," he says.

"Am I right in thinking this is not a regular wedding reception?" Mr. Weasley asks.

"We're expecting it to be crashed by the Death Eaters," Ron admits. "In fact, that was sort of the whole idea."

Mr. Weasley doesn't look surprised. "Maybe you'd better tell me about it," he says. "But first, there's someone who wants to see you."

Mystified, we follow him into the library. "At least we know it's not Muriel," Ron whispers to me. "And I can't think of anyone worse, can you?"

I wonder if it could be my parents? I feel instantly guilty for hoping it's not. Much as I'd love to see them, the timing isn't very good.

But it's not Mum and Dad. It's Dennis.

**Harry**

Winky won't come out from under the table, and in the end I have to crouch down on the floor to talk to her. "Winky, I asked Kreacher to find you because all of us have been worried about you," I start.

Kreacher snorts and drops a pan loudly into the sink. "We think you might be in some sort of trouble," I continue, ignoring him. "And if you are - well, we want to help you."

Winky bursts into tears. "Harry Potter is a very, very kind wizard!" she sobs. "But no one can help Winky. Winky has been a bad elf… she has disobeyed her mistress…"

This isn't getting us anywhere. "Winky, who is your mistress?" I ask abruptly.

Winky stops crying and closes her mouth tightly. Okay, then.

"If you won't tell me who she is, will you at least tell me how you came to work for her?" I say desperately. "I thought you were working at the Hog's Head."

"Winky's mistress sent her to work at the Hog's Head," Winky explains. "Only - " She gasps and closes her mouth again.

"To spy on people, right?" I ask.

There's no response other than a sob and a muttered "Bad Winky!" from under the table.

Kreacher turns from the sink. "Winky's mistress is a bad witch!" he thunders, shaking a dish towel at her. "Harry Potter is good. Winky will help Harry Potter!"

"Kreacher must not speak of Winky's mistress," Winky says faintly, but I can tell he's getting through to her.

"You never answered my question," I say gently. "How did she come to be your mistress, Winky? Why did you leave Hogwarts?"

Winky takes a deep breath. "Winky was very lonely at Hogwarts after Dobby went away," she says, all in a rush. "She drank many butterbeers, but nothing cheered her up. At last Winky decided she must find a new family, so she went to the place that helps house-elves, sir."

The place that… "The House-Elf Relocation Office? You went there, Winky?" I ask. And now I know who her mistress is. It all makes sense now - I even remember Hermione saying something about Winky's file being empty. Of course it was - Talitha wouldn't want to leave any evidence.

Winky's babbling so fast now that I can hardly make sense of the words. I catch "Winky's mistress was so kind at _first_, sir," and "Winky didn't _want_ to, sir, but Mistress said a disgraced elf couldn't pick and choose."

"It's all right," I say, holding up a hand. "I know you had to do what she told you. But you helped Ron."

"Winky had to shut her hands in the door for that, sir," Winky says. "Winky didn't mind, because Miss was safe. But Winky was afraid of what her mistress would say if she found out. Winky's mistress had told her to stay in the kitchen, but Winky did not stay. Winky ran away. Madam Puddifoot needed the help of a house-elf, even a disgraced one, and she protected Winky when Winky told her she was hiding from bad wizards. But Winky was still afraid, and when strange wizards came looking for her, she ran away again."

That explains Madam Puddifoot's behavior. I have to admit, I had a hard time picturing her as a Death Eater. "You don't have to be afraid any more, Winky," I say. "I'm going to protect you from your mistress. And now I need to ask - "

But that's as far as I get. Winky flings herself at me, nearly knocking me backwards onto the floor. "Harry Potter is the best wizard in the world!" she sobs. Kreacher gives a satisfied nod and turns back to the dishes.

"I'm not, really," I say, embarrassed. "Winky, did you ever overhear your mistress making any plans?"

"Winky thinks she meant to do something very, very bad!" Winky whispers, looking frightened. "Mistress was looking for something - there is a charm - but the dark wizard said it was dangerous! And Mistress laughed and said she had no fear of danger."

A charm… the charm that makes Slytherin's orb work. "Did you ever hear what the charm was?" I ask.

Winky shakes her head. I hear footsteps and turn with relief to find Hermione, Ron, and Ginny coming down the stairs.

"We managed to get rid of them," Ron says, dropping into a chair. "They all know about tonight - and they all want in, even Muriel. And you'll never believe this, Harry - she's taken Dennis home with her!"

Dennis was here? I look at Hermione, who nods. "Dennis told us Draco Malfoy saved him from Rodolphus Lestrange," she confirms.

When exactly did all of _this_ happen? I'm about to ask for details, but Winky squeaks in fright. "Rodolphus Lestrange is a very bad wizard!" she whispers.

"Yes, he is," Hermione says, leaning down to look at her. "But he can't hurt anyone now, Winky."

"Is he - " I start to ask, but Ginny shakes her head.

"The last Dennis knew, he was tied up in a cave on the shore across from Azkaban," she says. "It's sort of a long story."

I'll bet it is. "Where's Malfoy now?" I ask, deciding I'll have to wait to hear the rest of it later.

"Dennis left him at the Ministry," Ginny says.

Well, that's just about the worst place he could possibly be. I hope he had the sense to go back to the Hog's Head after that. I stand up and motion the others closer. "Winky's been working for Talitha," I whisper. "But she ran away, and now she's going to help us."

"Oh, poor Winky," Hermione says immediately. She slips away, and I see her bend down under the table again.

Winky couldn't be in better hands. I leave her to it and turn back to Ron and Ginny. "What we have to do now," I say, "is go to the shore across from Azkaban and find Lestrange."

"We ought to find Malfoy first so he can tell us where the cave is," Ron argues. "I don't fancy searching behind every bloody rock on the beach."

"Ron's right," Hermione says, rejoining us. "But I think we ought to try the Hog's Head first. I don't think Malfoy would have stayed at the Ministry."

I look uneasily toward the wine cellar. "I know you said she wouldn't wake up," I say, "but - "

"Don't worry about that," Hermione says, smiling at me. "Talitha will be well-guarded."

I follow her gaze toward the table. Winky's coming out, a look of steely determination on her face. "She will not get away, Harry Potter," she says firmly. I watch in astonishment as she marches toward the wine cellar.

"What the hell did you say to her?" Ron whispers admiringly.

Hermione turns the smile on him. "I merely explained to her that Talitha was just the Department secretary and didn't have the right to assign homes to any house-elf," she says. "She took Winky under false pretences, so Winky has no obligation to follow Talitha's orders."

"Let's just hope it doesn't get her started on the butterbeer again," I can't help saying.

Hermione looks exasperated. "Do you know, that's the one thing Talitha thought of that none of the rest of us did," she says. "She simply ordered Winky not to touch butterbeer. She hasn't had a drop in months!"

I can't help laughing. "Brilliant," I say. "Well, if we're ready?" I pull out the Cloak.

**Draco**

Rodolphus is still out cold. Either I Stunned him a lot harder than I realized, or he's faking. I give him a good kick to be sure, but he doesn't even twitch. "Now what?" I say to Persimmon. I hope she doesn't want to wait around for him to wake up - the wind's blowing even harder than it was earlier and the temperature's dropped about twenty degrees.

"I could bring him round, but I don't think this is the best place to interrogate him," Persimmon says briskly. "If Azkaban were operating properly we might run him across, but under the circumstances I think we'd better take him along to the Hog's Head with us."

I stare at her. "You're going to the Hog's Head?"

"Of course," Persimmon says. "Where else would we go?"

I think about it. She's right about Azkaban, and there's obviously no one around at the Ministry, either. Potter and his lot are the only choice left.

"Pity to remove the seaweed, but it makes such a mess," Persimmon says. "Now, will we all go together, or would you prefer that I take charge of him?"

I'd definitely rather have her do it, but I don't like to say so. Persimmon's practically the only one who thinks I'm any use. "We can each grab an arm," I say, steeling myself.

We take Rodolphus around to the kitchen door at the Hog's Head. "Don't think you're going to bring any of your Death Eater relatives into my pub!" Aberforth warns, opening the door a crack and peering suspiciously at me. "And where's Aloysius?"

"We're so sorry to intrude, but we've captured Rodolphus Lestrange and we need a place to lock him up until Azkaban re-opens," Persimmon says smoothly, moving to my side.

Aberforth glares at her, too. "Who're you?" he barks.

"Persimmon, from the Auror Office," she answers, beaming at him. "We've never met, but Harry and Ron have told me so many nice things about you!"

"Pack of lies!" Aberforth snaps, looking embarrassed. "There's nothing nice about me!" He looks back at Rodolphus, floating in the air next to me. "So you've captured Lestrange," he says. "And you want to put him in my pub."

"Perhaps not in the actual pub," Persimmon says. "But surely you've a nice, dark closet or something that we could stuff him into? It's just till I can arrange to have him taken back to Azkaban."

Aberforth opens the door another crack. "There's an empty butterbeer keg in the back room," he offers.

"Perfect," Persimmon says, giving him another smile. "I can see you're a very sensible man. I'm sure we're going to get on brilliantly!"

Aberforth looks embarrassed again, but he finally opens the door the rest of the way and lets us in. He grabs my arm as I'm about to follow Persimmon and Rodolphus into the back room. "Where's Aloysius?" he whispers sharply.

"He's all right," I say shortly. "I left him with Arthur Weasley."

Persimmon's already coming out. "That should take care of him for a while," she says. "Now, I'd like to see Harry, please."

"So would I like to see him," Aberforth grumbles. "The lot of them slipped out of here without a word after they'd finished their little experiment! Unless something went wrong." His face changes on the last words.

Persimmon and I exchange a glance. "What experiment?" I ask.

Aberforth looks uneasy. "Dunno as I ought to say," he mutters. He eyes Persimmon. "You say you're with the Aurors?"

Persimmon nods. "Did they go after Talitha?" she asks bluntly.

"Yeah, and we caught her," a voice says from behind us. We all turn to find Potter grinning at us from the door leading into the pub.

"How'd you get in here?" Aberforth demands.

"Neville let me in," Potter says. "We've been going over the plans for tonight - oh, and I'm glad you're here, Malfoy. Dennis told us you've got Rodolphus Lestrange stashed in a cave."

**Ron**

Everyone's already waiting in the pub when we get to the Hog's Head - well, everyone but Aberforth. Harry goes looking for him while Hermione and Ginny and I fill the others in on what happened with Talitha.

"Seen Malfoy?" I ask Neville in a low voice.

He shakes his head. "I thought maybe he'd left," he says. "I don't think he wants to be here."

Like I care what Malfoy wants. We need him to find Lestrange - and wasn't there something else we wanted him for? I look at Hermione.

"Zabini," she whispers.

Oh yeah - Zabini. I'd nearly forgotten him. Well, he'll keep for now. "I'm going to find Harry," I say, but before I can get up, the door to the kitchen opens and Harry walks in, followed by Aberforth, Malfoy - and Persimmon, of all people.

Hermione slides over closer to me to make room for her. "Well done, capturing Talitha," Persimmon says to us, sitting down. "And Draco and I have Lestrange tucked into an empty butterbeer keg in Aberforth's back room, so he's nicely out of the way for the time being."

I stare at her. "Well done, yourself," I say, when I can manage to speak. "What's going on at Azkaban? Have you heard from anyone?"

Persimmon shakes her head, looking worried. She's about to say more, but Aberforth's clearing his throat.

"Anyone who wants breakfast is going to have to get it for themselves," he announces loudly. "Plenty of food in the - "

He's interrupted by a mad rush toward the kitchen. But I'm watching Malfoy. He looks furtively over his shoulder and then follows the rest through the door of the pub. What's he up to, then? He wouldn't have looked like that if he were just going to get food…

I push back my chair. Hermione gives me a look that I have no trouble interpreting as "Ron, you've already had breakfast _twice_." I jerk my head ever so slightly in Malfoy's direction and watch as her eyes widen. She nods, almost imperceptibly.

Malfoy's disappeared by the time I reach the door. There's the back room. I lean my ear against the door, listening. I can hear someone whispering. I push the door open.

Malfoy turns with a start, pointing his wand straight at me. "Oh, it's just you, Weasley," he says, relaxing. "I'm just guarding him, all right? You don't need to be in here. Go on back to your _wife_."

There's definitely a sneer in the last word. "I heard voices," I say, closing the door behind me. I walk over to him, trying to act casual, but I've got my hand on my own wand. If he starts something, I'm ready.

Malfoy's shoulders slump. "I was trying to wake him up," he admits, not looking at me. "I thought maybe I could question him. He's not going to talk to any of you, but he might to me."

He might, at that. "Don't let on where we are," I warn him.

"Yeah, that was the first thing I was going to tell him," Malfoy says sarcastically. "Right after I told him I was the one who put him here."

Malfoy could really use a good punch in the face, couldn't he? But now's not the time. "What I meant," I say, "is that you ought to let him think you've been taken prisoner too. Tell him you didn't see who Stunned you, and you don't know where you are now."

Malfoy nods slowly. "Right," he says, leaning forward. "Rodolphus? Are you all right?"

There's silence. _"Ennervate,"_ I whisper, pointing my wand at the keg.

Still nothing. I back carefully out of the room, motioning for Malfoy to follow me.

_"Muffliato,"_ I say quickly. "What else did you do to him? Is he tied up or something?"

"Bodybind," Malfoy says. "Only I'm not fool enough to undo that one." His expression says he thinks I am.

I give him a disgusted look. "How d'you expect him to _talk_, you git?" I say. I go back in the room without waiting to see if he follows me. I hate non-verbal spells; I've never been very good at them. But I think I can manage this one.

Malfoy's still hovering by the door. "He's tied up," I mouth at him. At least, I hope he is. I've never tried the Rope Charm through a butterbeer keg before.

A steady bumping noise is coming from the keg. Malfoy stares at it, wide-eyed. I give him a good shove toward the keg.

"Rodolphus?" Malfoy manages at last.

"Draco?" a voice says at once. I recognize it as the one we heard on the lawn at Malfoy Manor. "Draco, is that you?"

"Yeah," Malfoy says. "Someone - er - captured both of us. I don't know where we are."

I thought he'd be a better liar than that. But Rodolphus doesn't seem to notice. "I can't move," he says fretfully. "I think I'm tied up."

It worked, then. I feel a huge wave of relief. "Yeah, me too," Malfoy says quickly. "Rodolphus, I think it was Talitha that put us here."

Oh, well done, Malfoy! I wouldn't have expected him to come up with that one. "Talitha," Rodolphus says slowly. I notice he doesn't seem surprised at the idea. "She thinks I have it. But I don't." His voice turns frantic. "Draco, you must return it to her! She'll kill both of us!"

"I haven't got it," Malfoy says sulkily. "I lost it, ages ago."

"Lost it?" Rodolphus's voice cracks.

"Well, so what?" Malfoy says. "It's not anything special, is it?"

"It was a prized possession of Salazar Slytherin's," Rodolphus says sternly. "And it has the power to change the world."

"Then why'd you make _me_ hold onto it?" Malfoy demands. "That was bloody stupid, wasn't it? I could have used it against you at any time."

"You could hardly have used it without knowing what it was or how it worked," Rodolphus says.

"I'll bet I know what it was," Malfoy says. He's relaxed now, playing his part perfectly. His voice is almost taunting as he leans over the keg. "I read up on Slytherin - and I learned quite a lot about a bloke called Enoch Temporis."

There's silence for a minute. "Without the incantation, the object is useless," Rodlophus says flatly.

Malfoy leans closer. "Do you know the incantation?" he asks, trying to sound idly curious. "Were you going to tell it to Talitha?"

"It must not be spoken aloud," Rodolphus says.

An odd look crosses Malfoy's face. "Why not?" he asks sharply. "What would happen?"

The door eases open quietly, and I look over my shoulder to see Harry and Hermione. I put a finger to my lips.

Malfoy hasn't noticed. _"Tell me!"_ he's demanding. He sounds almost hysterical.

"I will tell you nothing more," Rodolphus answers coldly. "We must focus on finding a way out of here. Can you see anything, Draco?"

Malfoy turns away, not answering. Rodolphus raises his voice. "Draco? Are you there?" He sounds almost as hysterical as Malfoy did a second ago.

I motion frantically to Malfoy, but he acts like he's been Confunded. Bloody hell - this isn't getting us anywhere. _"Stupefy,"_ I say silently, pointing my wand at the keg.

Rodolphus is cut off in mid-sentence. I look at Harry and Hermione and shrug. "What the hell, Malfoy?" I say. I'm seriously annoyed with him. "We were just starting to get somewhere!"

"Get the hell out of here," Malfoy says, not looking at me.

Okay, this time he's definitely getting punched. I stick my wand in my pocket and step forward. "Ron," Hermione says, putting her hand on my arm.

"And take her with you," Malfoy says. "I want to talk to Potter alone."

**Hermione**

"And then he just sort of blanked out," Ron finishes, still looking exasperated. "He's probably doing it just to stop us learning any more. I knew we shouldn't trust him!"

"He didn't look like he was doing it on purpose," I say slowly. "He looked… frightened." I wasn't sure at first, but the more I think about it, I realize I'm right. Malfoy wasn't just frightened - he was terrified.

"I don't see why," Ron objects. "Lestrange was just telling him he couldn't say that incantation aloud and - " He stops, looking down at me. "But that can't be it," he says blankly. "How the hell would Malfoy have said the incantation when he doesn't know what it is?"

"I don't know," I admit. "Unless it's some sort of common word that he might have said accidentally."

"It isn't," Ron says positively. "Incantations never are. I mean, how often do you go round accidentally saying _Expecto Patronum_ in ordinary conversation? Or _Engorgio_? Or - "

His wand is pointing at a potted plant as he says the word _Engorgio_. "I get the idea," I say hastily, shrinking the plant back to normal size before it can take over the hallway. "Well, maybe he'll tell Harry about it."

The kitchen door opens. "Seriously good currant buns," Seamus informs us as he passes. "Too bad they're all gone."

Ron looks sadly at the kitchen. "If everyone's finished eating, maybe we'd better go over the plans for tonight," I say.

Lavender emerges in time to hear this. "I still think we'd better dress up," she informs us. "It'll look suspicious if we don't."

"It'll look like an _informal_ party," Seamus argues, but for once I agree with Lavender.

"Dress robes," I tell him firmly. "You can wear jeans underneath."

The others are all moving back into the pub now. I hold Ron back for a moment. "What are we going to do about Lestrange tonight?" I ask him. "We can't spare anyone to guard him. I'd thought Malfoy could do it, but - "

"No," Ron says at once. "I want Malfoy where we can see him."

"Maybe things at Azkaban will be sorted out by then," I say hopefully. "We can't just go on stashing prisoners all over the place and expecting them to stay put."

"Well, there's Kreacher," Ron suggests. "Only I dunno as I want to leave Winky on her own. There's butterbeer in the wine cellar - the temptation might be too much for her, what with the stress and all."

"If only we knew some other house-elves," I say with a sigh.

"You must know a lot of them by now," Ron points out.

I think about it. Balto and all the other elves that I found good homes for - they'd help me if I asked - wouldn't they? "You're so clever," I say, kissing Ron.

Ron looks gratified. "Go on," he says. "Let's ask them."

**Harry**

"What?" I ask, once the door's closed behind Ron and Hermione.

Malfoy's face is white. "You didn't hear the beginning," he says. "I asked Rodolphus about that thing - you know, Slytherin's orb or whatever it is - and he said Talitha didn't know the incantation. He said it couldn't be spoken aloud."

He's silent for a minute. "And?" I prompt, concealing my impatience.

"And I think I might have said it!" Malfoy blurts. "And I don't know what's going to happen because that git wouldn't tell me!" He pounds the side of the keg with his fist.

_What?_ "Why would you have said it?" I ask, confused. "If you don't know what it is - "

Malfoy reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled scrap of parchment. He hands it to me wordlessly.

I unfold it. "Con-" I start.

"Don't say it out loud!" Malfoy hisses, snatching the parchment away. "I found it in Rodolphus's pocket."

"And you said it aloud?" I ask. Malfoy nods miserably. "But nothing happened," I point out.

"How do you know?" Malfoy asks.

"I don't," I admit after a minute. "But you're still alive." I reach for the parchment again, and Malfoy finally lets me have it.

"What are you going to do with it?" he asks.

I'm going to show it to Hermione - if it's a regular spell, she'll know - but I don't say so. "Nothing, for the time being," I say calmly. I turn my back on Malfoy and pull out my mokeskin bag - then stop. What if putting it in the same place as the orb activates it somehow?

_That's stupid,_ I tell myself silently. _The orb can't read._

All the same, I put the parchment into my pocket instead.

"Come on," I say to Malfoy. "We're going to go over the plans for tonight - and then there's one more thing we need you to do for us." 

**Ron**

It's getting later and other people are starting to show up at the Hog's Head. My brothers are all here, even Charlie.

"What're _you_ doing here?" I ask. I couldn't believe it when he walked in with Bill.

"You didn't think I'd miss my baby brother's wedding reception, did you?" Charlie asks, grinning at me. I let the "baby brother" part go, since Charlie only comes up to my shoulder.

"I heard Lee's broadcast last night and thought I'd come along and surprise you," Charlie explains. "Then Bill let me know what was really going on, and we thought we'd better look you up before tonight."

"You can hear Lee all the way in Romania?" I ask, distracted for a minute.

Charlie nods. "Don't ask me how, though, because I don't understand it."

Hermione probably knows, but I decide not to ask her. There's no guarantee I'll understand it myself, even after she explains.

"Anyway, congratulations," Charlie says, clapping me on the back. "How do you like married life so far?"

"Brilliant, except that we've hardly had a chance to be alone," I say. "You ought to give it a try."

"Not me," Charlie says firmly. "I'll stick to my dragons."

"Not me, either," George says, joining us. I look pointedly over my shoulder at Angelina, busy talking to Katie Bell on the other side of the room.

"How many times do I have to tell you, we're just friends," George says impatiently. "It's not like that with us at all."

That's why I used to think about me and Hermione, but I was wrong. I never knew I was "like that" about her till she showed up with bloody Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball. I wonder how George would feel if Angelina started dating someone else? I'm about to ask, but Percy's coming over.

"I hope you've cleared it with the Ministry about using the Café tonight," he says, frowning at me. "They're very particular about that sort of thing."

They are? I look at Bill, who nods. "Never gave it a thought," I admit. "But why the hell would anyone care? No one minded Dean being there after hours."

Percy gives me his Head Boy look. "_Dean_ was executing a commission from the Minister of Magic," he says with exaggerated patience. "_You_ want to have a party."

"Hardly that," George says mildly.

Percy ignores him. "Well?" he says to me.

I'd like to drag it out a little bit, just to tease Percy, but we'll have to tell all of them soon, anyway. I look around again, this time for Hermione. I spot her talking to Lee in the corner. Good, that's sorted.

"We never had any intention of having it in the Café," I say, lowering my voice. "That was just to throw the Death Eaters off."

"I had wondered," Bill says. "I thought you were taking an awful risk, with that lot knowing about it since last night. They've had plenty of opportunity to put all sorts of jinxes on the place. I should have known you had something else planned."

I try to look mysterious and clever. There's no need to let on that Hermione only let the rest of us in on that particular part of the plan about an hour ago. "Lee's going to make the announcement just before eight o'clock," I say. "By then we'll already be in place, and it'll be too late for them to trap us."

"Do we have to wait till eight, too?" Charlie asks. "Not that I mind, but I did come all the way from bloody Romania."

He says it like he walked instead of Apparating. But if I can't trust my own brothers... _"Muffliato,"_ I say; then, "Here, of course. Only don't let on to anyone just yet." It's not like we don't trust everyone in here, but they'll all be going home to change their clothes, and - well, anything could happen.

"Have you told Aberforth?" George asks, grinning at me. "Or is this all going to be a lovely surprise for him? Not that he couldn't do with the business, mind, but - "

"Er," I say. "Ginny was going to do that. He seems to like her the best."

**Hermione**

"I talked to Lee," I say, sitting down on the stairs next to Ron. "And Ginny cleared things with Aberforth, so that's done. And Balto and the others are taking Rodolphus and his keg somewhere to hide him, and - "

"And we're finished here for now, aren't we?" Ron interrupts, putting his arm around me. "We'll have to go home to change - and I wouldn't mind a nap."

I wouldn't mind one, either. I lean my head wearily against his shoulder. "There's still Blaise Zabini," I remind him. I close my eyes, just for a second. "Maybe we'd better find Malfoy."

"Zabini's an idiot," Ron says, pulling me a bit closer. "He doesn't know anything. He'll be all right where is he until after we get this business tonight sorted." He hesitates, then adds, "Maybe we ought to stick Malfoy with him anyway, though. I don't know as I want him here tonight."

Oh dear. "I'm not sure I do, either," I admit. "I know he captured Rodolphus and he's certainly acting like he's on our side, but - "

"But he's Malfoy," Ron says, settling it. "Even if he didn't do anything against us, I'm not sure he'd be any help, either. I keep remembering how he was during the Battle."

"Maybe we could find a sort of job for him," I suggest. "Something that seems important, but really isn't."

"Guarding Zabini," Ron says promptly. "I'll even offer to take him there myself." He leans closer and kisses my neck. "Going to wear that strapless dress tonight?" he whispers.

Honestly. As if it won't be enough trouble fighting Death Eaters without having to worry that my dress is going to fall down. "It's not exactly appropriate," I say patiently. "I'll save it for our real reception."

I start to relax again, but now I hear something. Footsteps - and they're coming from above us. "Ron, who could be upstairs?" I whisper. "It's not Aberforth - he's talking to Bill over there."

Ron leans forward to see into the pub. "No one's missing," he says in a low voice. He pulls his wand out. "I'm going to see who it is. You stay down here, Hermione."

I most certainly will _not_. I've just started to say so when I catch a flash of bright yellow at the top of the stairs.

"Oh, hello," Luna's voice says. "I was hoping I wasn't going to be too late for your wedding reception. I wore my yellow dress because it brought good luck to your brother and his wife." She beams at us and comes down the stairs the rest of the way. "Have you changed your minds? Are you having it here instead? Or hasn't it started yet?"

"Luna!" Ginny says delightedly, coming over to give her a hug. "You look - er - nice and bright."

"As a matter of fact, we are having it here," Ron says to Luna. "Only it's not exactly going to be a wedding reception. We're expecting a few people to crash the party."

"Yes, I thought that might happen," Luna says unexpectedly. "That's why I didn't tell anyone I was coming. Well, that and the fact that I didn't think I'd be allowed to leave school."

"We might as well tell the rest of them," Ginny says to us. "There's no reason for this lot to go home and change, is there? It's safer to keep everyone here."

"Lavender Brown's not going to like that," Luna remarks, scanning the crowd.

Too bad for Lavender, isn't it? Ginny's quite right. A few people have had to leave for various reasons, but most of the ones who were here last night have remained. "There's no point in any of them ruining their dress robes," I say. "And Luna - maybe you ought to wear something a bit - er - darker. You're rather a target in that color."

"All right," Luna says, unperturbed. We watch as she touches her wand to the fabric, changing it to a deep Ravenclaw blue.

"We need to go home, though," Ron says to Ginny. "I need a few hours sleep before we take all this on."

"You sleep entirely too much, Ronald," Ginny says, in a perfect imitation of her Auntie Muriel. "When I was your age, I could stay awake for days at a time."

"We _all_ need some sleep," I say. "And we haven't decided what to do about Malfoy."

"Is he here?" Luna asks, surprised. "I never liked him much, but I don't suppose I need to talk to him."

"Feel free to ignore him," Ron says cheerfully. He turns to me and Ginny. "Let's get Harry and get the hell out of here. I'm ready to fall asleep on these stairs."

"Malfoy," I remind him, not moving.

"He can do what I said before," Ron says firmly. "Guard Zabini."

Luna nods. "I don't know where Blaise Zabini is, but I think he'd have a much nicer time with Malfoy than he would here," she says approvingly. "He was always a bit stuck-up, wasn't he?"

**Draco**

_"One more thing I need you to do,"_ that's what Potter said. He never said anything about having to travel back in time to do it - and he definitely never said I was going to have to go back to the bloody Shrieking Shack. If I never see this place again it'll be too soon.

I still feel dizzy from the time-traveling. I don't even know what year it is, and bloody Weasley won't say. "What's here?" I ask nervously. "What have I got to do?"

"Nothing much," Weasley says. "Just guard Zabini for us."

Zabini? Zabini's here? "For how long?" I ask suspiciously.

"Er," Weasley says, looking at his wife. Can't he even put a complete sentence together without her help?

"Just a few hours," Hermione Weasley tells me. "You might try to find out a bit more about Talitha - if he wakes up."

Great - he's not even awake. "I just want both of you to know that you're not fooling me," I say sharply. "You want me out of the way tonight because you still don't trust me - even after everything I've done."

The two of them exchange glances. "It's not that we don't trust you," Weasley says, clearly lying. "It's just that we think you'll be safer here. Blood traitors were next to Muggle-borns in your Aunt Bellatrix's book, you know. She told me so herself - right before she tried to kill Hermione."

I look at him; then away. Okay, so I didn't help them that night, but I'd like to know just what the hell he thinks I could have done. I tried - sort of. I knew it was Potter straight off, but I didn't let on.

_You didn't want to help them,_ a voice in my head says. _You didn't care, as long as it wasn't you she was after._

"All right," I say abruptly. "I'll guard Zabini. Do I have your word that you'll come back for us afterwards? You won't just leave us here?"

"We'll come back," Weasley says, sounding relieved. He flicks his wand at the trap door, opening it.

"What if you're all killed?" I ask bluntly.

Weasley looks startled and glances at his wife for help again. Really, it's a wonder he ever passed the Auror entrance exam without her telling him what to do.

"We'll tell Harry's house-elf where you and Zabini are before we - before tonight," Hermione Weasley says quickly. "If anything happens to us, he'll see to it that someone comes after you."

I hope Potter's house-elf is brighter than our old one used to be. Still, I suppose it's better than nothing. And I don't really think Weasley and his wife are both going to be killed - I couldn't be that lucky. I peer down into the darkness with a shiver. I have to light my wand to spot Zabini, slumped in the corner. "Go on, then," I tell the two of them, trying to sound like I don't care.

**Harry**

"No trouble?" I ask.

Kreacher shakes his head. "The bad witch still sleeps, Harry Potter," he assures me.

The bad witch… it's a good a name for her as any. I go to the head of the stairs and peer down. Winky rolls her eyes in my direction, but doesn't move from the spot she's chosen directly next to Talitha.

"All right, Winky?" I say.

"Winky is watching her, sir," Winky says firmly. "She will not escape from Winky."

Good enough, then.

Kreacher's stirring something on the stove. "Harry Potter will eat a proper meal before he leaves," he tells me firmly. "And so will Harry Potter's friends."

He's got a very determined look on his face. "We wouldn't dream of skipping dinner," I tell him. "Have I got time for a nap first?"

"Kreacher will wake his master in time," Kreacher says.

No need for that - I'm too keyed-up to sleep - but I can rest and go over the plan again. And spend a little private time with Ginny…

I try not to think about the fact that tonight could be the last time. We may be taking them by surprise, but Talitha's lot will aim to kill. If only I knew how to use Slytherin's orb. The word on the scrap of parchment seems to float in the air in front of my face. "Death to speak it aloud," Lestrange said, but what if he was lying? But there's Enoch Temporis, too - it killed him, didn't it?

Kreacher peers up at me anxiously. "Kreacher's master is all right?" he asks.

"I'm fine," I say quickly. "I'll be upstairs. Call me if - " I gesture toward the cellar door, and Kreacher nods.

"Go, Harry Potter," he tells me.

Ginny's waiting for me by the stairs. "Ron and Hermione are taking a nap - they _said_," she tells me. "Everything all right with Talitha, then?"

"Winky won't let her get away," I say. And even though I know it's no use, I have to say it. "Ginny, I wish you'd stay here tonight. If anything happens - "

"Nice try," Ginny says kindly. "I'm going with you, Harry. And I think we ought to take a nap of our own, don't you?"

I let her lead me up the stairs.

**Ron**

We're back at the Hog's Head long before Lee's announcement. Everyone's milling around, with nothing to do but wait. Some of them have been here too long, I reckon. The sooner we get things going, the better.

Other people - the ones we told ahead of time - are starting to show up. I see Bill come in with Fleur and make my way over to them.

"Mum and Dad are on their way," Bill tells me. "We thought we'd better not show up all at once."

"I don't suppose you talked Muriel out of it?" I say hopefully.

Bill grins at me. "Not a chance," he says. "But it's quite possible that none of us mentioned the change of location to her."

As long as she doesn't listen to Lee's program, we could just get lucky. We're interrupted by Neville before I can say so. "Hannah just got here," he says breathlessly. "She had to go in to work at the Cauldron for a few hours today, and she said Warrington and Montague and that lot were hanging about all afternoon. They stopped talking every time she came near, but she heard one of them say something about 'taking care of things tonight'."

Bill's eyes meet mine. "They're definitely planning on showing up, then," he says grimly.

If it's just Warrington, we can handle it with no trouble. If it's anyone else… I look around. "Is Dean here yet?" Dean was another one that left - supposedly to work on his murals, but really so he could keep an eye on things in the Café.

"Over there with Harry and Ginny," Neville says, gesturing.

"Evelinda Whatsis from Muggle Relations," Dean's saying as I walk up. "And your least favorite Quidditch coach, Ginny. And that old bloke Ernie works for - I forget his name. And - oh hi, Ron. I was just telling Harry, a lot of people came in for afternoon tea and hung about for hours today."

"Well, they'll be surprised when they find out they're waiting in the wrong place," Harry says. He sounds calm, but I know he isn't.

"Gwenog must be back coaching the team if Xanthia's at the Ministry," Ginny says. "I hope she doesn't think I've quit."

Harry puts his arm around her. "We'll have this sorted before your next match," he promises.

Either that or we'll all be dead. I look around for Hermione and spot her talking to Hannah. She catches my eye and waves me over.

"Mind you make it look convincing!" Dean calls after me. "Lots of snogging and all that - just like a real wedding!"

There's no one here we have to convince, but I don't mind kissing Hermione. I reach her in about two steps and put both arms around her. She smiles up at me. No one looking at her now would believe that two hours ago she was crying and clinging to me. She's afraid, but she won't show it in front of the others. I'm scared myself, to be honest, but I didn't like to say so to Hermione. Seems to me like the husband ought to be the brave one.

"Lee ought to be on any second," Hannah says, looking at her watch.

I flick my wand in the direction of the radio, turning it up.

"Not Celestina Warbeck, please!" Fleur says, turning it back down again. "I 'ave enough of _zat_ at Christmas!"

Right on cue, Mum and Dad walk in. Anybody else would be embarrassed, but not Fleur.

"The song's over," Bill says hastily. "Turn it back up so we can hear Lee's announcement."

Lee's voice comes on a second later. "I've got a message for anyone who may be headed to the Granger-Weasley reception," he says. "The location has been changed to the Hog's Head in the village of Hogsmeade - so if you're on your way to the Ministry, you might want to turn around! Hope to see all of you there. And stay tuned for the Quidditch scores from today's matches, coming right up in- "

I wouldn't mind hearing the Quidditch scores, but Fleur's already turned it back off. Maybe she was afraid they'd go back to Celestina.

"I hope Lee makes it here all right," Hermione whispers.

Harry's on his way over to us, with Ginny clinging to his arm. "It'll be any second, I reckon," he says grimly.

"We're all ready for them," I tell him. We've got Shield Charms on all the windows, and we've blocked all of the entrances except the front one. There's only one way the Death Eaters can get in - and we're all surrounding it. We can take them out one by one as they come in.

The door opens and we all freeze, but it's just Lee. "Am I the last?" he asks, looking around. "Right, then - let's get this party started!"

Almost as if someone was waiting for him to say that, the lights go out.

**Draco**

Zabini still hasn't moved. I light my wand and draw closer. He'll go spare when he wakes up and sees he's been lying on a dirt floor - those are his designer robes from Paris. Still, I wouldn't mind a bit of company. And I know how to wake him up, thanks to Weasley.

_"Ennervate,"_ I whisper.

A second later, Zabini's looking around, wild-eyed.

"Calm down," I say quickly. "It's just me. We're safe here."

Zabini ignores this. "What the hell's going on, Draco?" he demands. "What are you doing here - and where are we?"

I look at him sideways. "Don't you remember?"

Zabini frowns. "Last I knew, I was in an alley," he says slowly. "There were these two Muggles - seemed like they were up to something. I reckon they might have been looking to rob somebody. Normally I wouldn't have cared, but they were in my way, so - " He stops in mid-sentence. "Not Muggles," he says flatly.

Weasley and Granger must have been in disguise when they grabbed him. "No," I say. "They were some of her lot. I managed to fight them off, and I brought you here."

Zabini looks around again. "Not exactly five-star, is it?" he remarks.

"It's safe," I say stiffly. "And you're welcome."

"Sorry," Zabini says, sounding anything but apologetic. "I do appreciate you saving my life - even if it apparently did mean the end of my new robes." He looks down at himself regretfully. "Might I borrow your wand? Sometimes if you do a cleaning charm  
>immediately - "<p>

"Forget about your bloody robes for a minute!" I say impatiently. "I'm on the run, too. I've got Talitha breathing down my neck on one side and Potter and his lot on the other."

"Oh, Potter," Zabini says dismissively. "I wouldn't worry about him if I were you, Draco. He's far too busy playing pet Auror these days to trouble about us. Talitha's the one you've got to look out for. I told you that already."

"Then why were you outside her flat?" I ask suspiciously. "Were you trying to make up with her?"

Zabini shudders. "Certainly not," he says firmly. "It just so happens that I - er - left a few things behind in her flat. I was merely waiting for her to leave so that I could retrieve them."

More designer robes from Paris? Even for someone as vain as Zabini, that seems unlikely. Not when he was afraid for his life…

"Try again, Blaise," I say.

Zabini slumps against the wall. "All right," he says crossly. "She's got a notebook of some sort that she'd never let me look at. I thought if I could grab it, I could find out what she's up to."

He must be out of his mind. "And blackmail her into sparing your life?" I demand unbelievingly. "She'd kill you as soon as look at you." A notebook… I'll bet Potter'd like to get his hands on that… "What sort of notebook?" I ask.

"It was old," Zabini says with a shrug. "A small book like a diary, with a black leather cover. She didn't write things in it - she just carried it about with her. Sometimes she read it, but not when I was close enough to see."

"If she was that careful with it, she'd hardly leave it lying about in her flat," I point out.

"It was worth a try," Zabini says. "After all, I don't want to spend the rest of my life in hiding. I've already missed a very important party in Monte Carlo."

I wonder to myself how a party can be classified as "important". There's no point in asking - Zabini lives by his own standards.

Zabini's complaining again. "Have we really got to stay here, Draco? Surely there's somewhere else we could go. Somewhere with a bit more ambience, perhaps."

"There isn't," I say, not wanting to tell him that I don't know what year it is. "I need you to tell me everything you know about Talitha's plan to take out Potter."

"Why?" Zabini asks, yawning. "All we have to do is stay out of her way for a bit. She's got more important things to worry about than us."

I take a deep breath. It all depends on Zabini believing me. I have to make this sound convincing. "Because her plan's not going to work," I say. "Potter knows what she's up to. He's known all along. I have to warn the others - Warrington and the rest. Potter's set a trap for them. If I don't get to them within the next hour, it'll be too late."

**Hermione**

There's a loud thump and a muffled cry in the darkness. Ron's arm tightens around me. "All right?" he whispers. "Light your wand."

I try, but it's no good. All around us I can hear whispering as other people try the same thing to no avail. Someone screams - Lavender, it sounds like.

"It's Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder," I hear George say.

Peruvian… but nothing works against that, does it? "Hang on," Ron says in my ear. "I've got an idea."

I feel him fumbling in a pocket for something - then there's a clicking noise and suddenly the lights are back on. Ron grins at me and holds up the Deluminator.

I blink and look around, trying to see through the faint haze that still permeates the room. The door's still open, and Lee Jordan's picking himself up off the floor. That must have been the thumping noise I heard. Someone must have pushed him - but there's no one behind him now except Susan Bones and she obviously wouldn't -

Hang on. Didn't I just see Susan over there on the other side of the room? How'd she get there so quickly? I start to turn back, just to see, when Susan-by-the-door raises her wand slowly, pointing it at Lee's back…

_"Stupefy!"_ I yell, reacting without thinking. Susan-by-the-door crumples to the ground, and Lee turns around, looking startled. "What'd you do that for?" he demands.

I point silently at the real Susan, standing next to Hannah with a horrified expression on her face. "It's _me_," she whispers incredulously. "Only it's not…"

I look around the room, this time spotting a second Seamus several feet from the one holding Lavender's hand. And I see three Paravatis - or are some of them Padmas? - and two Deans…

"Bloody hell," Ron says. "They must've made up a whole keg of Polyjuice Potion for this." He pulls me tightly against his side. "Hang on to me, Hermione, so I know it's really you."

That's all he has time to say before Ernie (but surely not _Ernie_?) lets out a wild yell and turns on the Patil twins with his wand raised. One of them Stuns him neatly, but the rest of them are rushing forward now. It's complete pandemonium, with no one knowing whether to attack or hold off in case they injure an ally.

Harry makes his way over to us and the three of us duck behind the bar. "What the hell," Harry whispers, looking shocked. "How are we supposed to know who the real ones are?"

"Ask them questions, I guess," Ron says. "What else can we do?" He eyes Harry suspiciously. "Where did we meet for the first time?"

"King's Cross," Harry says. "I asked your mum how to get through to Platform 9-3/4."

Ron turns the suspicious look on me.

"For heaven's sake," I say impatiently. "You've been holding on to me the entire time."

Ron ignores this. "Which side of the bed do I sleep on?" he demands.

Of all the ridiculous questions. "The right," I say with a sigh. Ron's eyes narrow. "The right when you're lying down, not the right as you're standing facing it," I qualify. "And you'd better think of a different question. Anyone in the world would have a fifty percent chance of answering that correctly."

"Don't you want to ask me anything?" he says, ignoring this.

_Not after that._ "There's no need," I say. "I'm positive it's you."

Harry's paid little attention to any of this. "What are we going to do?" he demands.

"They must have _some_ way of telling themselves apart from us," I say.

"Damned if I can spot it," Harry says shortly. "Look, I'm going to tell everyone just to go after their own double. It's the only way we can be sure we're not accidentally fighting each other." He's gone before we can say anything else.

I peer cautiously over the bar and spot not one, but two Hermiones. "They're both dressed in white," I say to Ron. "They must have thought I would be."

"Stay here and I'll take care of them," Ron says, but I'm not having any of that.

"You'll have enough on your hands," I tell him. "I see another Ron over there - and he's wearing dress robes."

Ron grins at me. "Somebody didn't know me very well, did they?" he says, slipping out from behind the bar. "Be careful, Hermione. You know I can't do without you."

I blow him a quick kiss and step out into the fray, keeping my eyes on the other Hermiones.

**Harry**

_If I could just use the orb,_ I think frantically, as I dodge a curse from one of my doubles. _If I could make all of this stop for a minute…_

A second Harry joins in against me with the first, and it takes all my concentration to fight them both off. I finally manage to Stun one, but the other one's disappeared. The room is full of smoke from all the curses being fired off, and my eyes are watery and irritated. I put a Bodybind Curse on the Harry I Stunned and look around for the other. There's Ginny - or one of them. I want to go and help her, but I don't dare. I don't know which one is really her.

An arm grabs me from behind and I feel a wand at my throat. "Any last words, Potter?" a mocking voice says in my ear.

So that's where the other Harry disappeared to. I struggle, trying to get my wand arm free, and he suddenly goes limp. I turn to see Luna standing behind me, looking pleased with herself. "Did you do that?" I say incredulously, looking at the body on the floor.

"You looked like you needed a bit of help," Luna explains. "There aren't any more of me - I expect they thought I wouldn't be allowed to leave school - so I've been going round helping everyone else get rid of their doubles."

"Taking an awful risk, weren't you?" I ask. "How did you know that wasn't the real me?"

Luna, in her turn, looks astonished. "Don't you see it?" she asks. "It's easy to spot them, Harry."

I look down at the Harry on the floor, now neatly Petrified by Luna. "No," I admit finally. "I _know_ that's not me, and even I'd be fooled by him. How the hell are you doing it, Luna?" If she tells me some crazy story about gurdyroots or nargles right now, I swear I'll…

But she doesn't. "They've all got those little snakes pinned to their collars," Luna explains. She leans down and taps the other Harry's collar with the tip of her wand. "See? They're really tiny, but if you look closely, you can spot them."

I have to get right down on the floor before I can see it - but she's right. Tiny isn't the word - the snake pin is almost microscopic - but it's there. A tiny golden serpent with emerald chips for eyes…

"What we need," Luna says matter-of-factly, "is someone who can do a Protean Charm. I thought of Hermione, but she seems to be rather busy just now."

What? "We need to get the word out to the others," I say, trying to gather my thoughts. "And - why a Protean Charm?"

"To make all the snakes bigger, of course," Luna explains. "Right now we can only spot them when we get up close. And we ought to do it quickly, before they figure out we've caught on."

I peer through the haze in the room for Hermione. "Over there, dueling with the Hermione in a white dress," Luna says, pointing. "I'll take her on if you want to explain to the real Hermione - unless you think I ought to do it?"

"No," I say quickly. Hermione's not going to understand if Luna explains it. It takes a certain kind of mind to appreciate Luna, and Hermione - clever as she is - simply doesn't have that sort of mind. "I'll talk to her. I'll distract the other one while you get behind her and take her down."

**Ron**

It hardly takes any time at all to finish them off, once Hermione's done her Charm and made the snake pins as big as boa constrictors. Several of them turn and make a run for it on the spot as soon as they realize they've been unmasked, and we manage to knock out the few that remain in a matter of minutes.

"I wonder who they all are," Hermione says thoughtfully, leaning against my side and looking at the Petrified doubles strewn about the floor. Her face is dirty and her sleeve is torn, but she looks beautiful.

I pull her a bit closer. "It's been nearly an hour," I say, looking at my watch. "The Polyjuice ought to be wearing off soon."

"It was quite clever, really," Hermione admits. "I suppose they got the idea from us, when we helped Harry escape from Privet Drive."

I look around the pub. Everyone seems to be in one piece. Some of our lot have injuries, but nothing life-threatening. Mum's fussing over a tiny cut on Charlie's hand. He looks completely embarrassed, and I make a mental note not to go anywhere near her. George comes back in, followed by Lee and Angelina. "We went after them, but the bloody cowards all Disapparated," he informs the room at large, looking disgusted. "Still, looks like we've got quite a few new guests for Azkaban here."

"George, your ear is bleeding," Angelina says. "Come here and let me have a look."

"Seeing as I've only got one, I'd better let you look after it for me," George answers, putting an arm around her.

I knew it. "Looks like I was right about them," I whisper to Hermione, but she's not listening.

"Azkaban," she says, looking worried. "Do you suppose that's where they all went?"

Why the hell would they do that? "No," I say. "I think they're all hiding out somewhere - maybe the Dark Horse, or - "

"What makes you think that, Hermione?" Ginny asks from behind us.

"I - let's go outside," Hermione says, leading us out of the crowd. "I can hardly breathe in here."

She's got a point. The smoke is still pretty thick, even though Aberforth's got the front door wide open. No one showed up as his double, but he did more than his share of fighting after we figured out who was who. "I'm just glad Aloysius wasn't here," he confided to me, pouring himself a firewhisky. "The boy's got a good heart, but he doesn't have the killer instinct."

Now he's pouring drinks for the others, too, and everyone seems to be talking at once. "Get Harry," I say to Ginny, and follow Hermione outside. I take a deep breath of the fresh air and immediately feel better.

"It's so quiet," Hermione says, looking around wonderingly. "It's as though no one else in Hogsmeade had any idea what was happening in there."

"They probably didn't," I say. "I don't think Ab does a lot of socializing with his neighbors." Harry and Ginny haven't shown up yet, so I take the opportunity to kiss my wife. "You were brilliant," I tell her.

"It was Luna, really," Hermione says, and then she doesn't say anything for a while because she's too busy kissing me. Which could have led to all sorts of interesting things, but naturally Ginny has to come along right then.

"You told us to come out here," she points out, when I give her a look. "Of course, Harry and I don't mind snogging for awhile if you want to carry on."

"No, wait," Hermione says. "I meant what I said before. I think they've gone to Azkaban, to help set the imprisoned Death Eaters free. I think it's all part of the plan."

Harry straightens his shoulders. "Right, then," he says. "I'll round up everyone who's not injured, and - "

"We ought to have a plan of our own first," I interrupt. "I don't fancy charging off to Azkaban without knowing what we're doing." I don't fancy going there at all, to be honest, but it looks like we're going to have to.

"_They're_ already there," Harry says impatiently. "We can think of a plan later."

"We have all the time we need," Hermione reminds him, touching the gold chain at her throat. "And anyway, I've already thought of a plan - or part of one. I got the idea just a few minutes ago, in the pub."

I stare at her. "We're not all going to be Harry again, are we?" I ask. That didn't work out so well before, as I recall.

"No," Hermione says. "I'm going to be Talitha."

**Draco**

Zabini's unconscious again. I think about rousing him, but decide against it. All he'll do is complain, and I've gotten what I needed from him anyway.

All right - so where the hell are they? I'm not wearing a watch, but I'm sure it's been several hours. Maybe they're dead. It'll take ages for the house-elf to get to me. I might have to wait here for days - weeks even.

The thought of spending days listening to Zabini whine about Monte Carlo makes me shudder. And there's nothing for us to eat - we'll likely starve to death. Bloody Weasley and his wife never thought about that, did they? Probably they didn't care if we starved, because I can't imagine Weasley forgetting about food for more than a second at a time.

I Apparate back through the trap door, just to see if there might be anything lying about upstairs. Maybe Weasley dropped a sandwich or something. Once there, I'm startled to see light coming through the cracks in the boarded-up windows. It's morning, then. I've been here all night - or it was close to dawn in whatever time they brought me here.

The sunlight makes me feel a lot braver. It wouldn't hurt just to have a look about, would it? I'm safe enough in Hogsmeade - unless it's last year, of course, and I don't think they would have chosen that particular time to come back to. Anyway, I can do a disguise, can't I? I know how to do a proper one now.

I hesitate for a second, looking down at the trap door, but Zabini's all right. He probably won't even wake up. Five minutes later, I'm on my way across the snow. 


	26. Chapter 26

_In a tiny cottage far from London, a house-elf named Balto is crouched in front of a large wooden cask. He's been watching it intently for the past two hours, but now he gives a sudden start and looks anxiously about the room._

_"Balto's mistress is calling him," he whispers uneasily. "Mistress is wanting her dinner. _Bad_ Balto."_

_Balto is afraid of his mistress when she's in a temper - which is often enough. The kind Miss at the House-Elf Relocation Office told Balto to contact her if things didn't work out with Miss Gamp, but it was easy enough to see that the kind Miss didn't quite understand the way these things work. Balto belongs to Miss Gamp now, and he must follow her orders or suffer the consequences._

_Balto cringes as the command comes again. Mistress is very, very angry. He sits back on his heels and considers his options. He could disobey his mistress, of course. Pasha will be here soon to take over, and then Balto will be free to return home. But can he afford to wait that long?_

_"The bad wizard sleeps," he whispers to himself. "Soon Pasha will come. Balto must go to his mistress."_

_Decision made, he Disapparates._

_Inside the cask, a Dark Wizard smiles to himself. Slowly at first, he begins to rock back and forth, concentrating his attention on a board that's started to come loose..._

**Harry**

"You're not," Ron says immediately. "It's too dangerous."

Hermione ignores this. "Harry?" she says.

I hesitate. It's a brilliant idea - at least, I think it is - but Ron's got a point. "Being Talitha is going to make you a target," I say. "The entire Auror Department is after her."

"They're busy with the riot," Hermione says, coolly dismissing the Auror Department. "Anyway, I'm not going anywhere near them. I want to find the rest of the Death Eaters and trick them into surrendering."

Ron appears to be lost for words. "How?" Ginny asks matter-of-factly. "They won't be easy to fool, you know. If you slip up - "

"If you slip up, they'll kill you," Ron says, regaining the power of speech. He puts a firm arm around Hermione and glares down at her. "And you're not doing it."

Hermione pats his hand absently. "I won't slip up," she says to Ginny. "I know her better than any of you do. I can fool anyone."

"And we don't have any Polyjuice Potion," Ron says triumphantly. "It takes months to brew it."

"There's plenty of it in the Auror Office," Hermione says at once.

"How do you know that?" Ron demands. "Harry, did you tell her?"

"No," Hermione says, smiling sweetly at him. "You did, ages ago."

Ron looks taken aback, but only for a second. "Hermione," he says sternly. "As your husband, I - will - not - allow - this."

Hermione looks like she's been turned to stone. "You did _not_ just say that," she says, dangerously quiet.

I've seen that look on her face before. I take an involuntary step backwards. "Come on," I whisper to Ginny. "Let's get the hell out of here - _now_." I have a bad feeling that we're about to be treated to a re-enactment of the scene that took place in the tent shortly after Ron and I returned with the sword.

Ginny's staring at Hermione in frozen fascination. "Come _on_," I whisper again, tugging at her hand. Ginny gives a start and then turns hastily and follows me into the pub.

"It's almost like seeing a really bad road accident, isn't it?" she says irrepressibly. "You know you shouldn't look, but you just can't help it."

The air seems to have cleared out a good deal, and people are gathered about in groups, still talking excitedly. Bill sees us and comes over.

"Interesting, that," he says. "I hadn't expected the Polyjuice. That was well done of Luna, spotting those pins. I was trying to figure it out myself - I knew there had to be some way they were telling themselves apart from the rest of you, but - " He leaves the sentence unfinished.

"I couldn't see it, either," I admit.

"What I don't understand," Ginny says, "is how they managed to make the Potion in the first place. I think Xanthia probably stole a piece of my hair - all she'd have to do is lift it from my hairbrush in the Quidditch changing-room - but she certainly couldn't have gotten anyone else's that way."

I stare at her. Up till now, it hadn't occurred to me to wonder. "Talitha could've done the same to Hermione," I say, thinking aloud. "But the rest of us - your parents - "

"Mum and Dad didn't have doubles," Bill says quietly. "Neither did Fleur and I - or Charlie."

"Or Aberforth, or Luna," Ginny says, frowning. "Now, they may not have expected Luna and Ab to be here, and possibly not Charlie, either, but they must've known the rest of the family would come."

We all look at each other blankly. "Maybe they couldn't get near those people," I say finally.

"But they got near the rest of us?" Ginny demands. "When was _Lavender_ around a Death Eater recently? Or Parvati?"

"No idea," I say, shrugging. "But it must have happened at some point. It's the only way."

"Actually," Bill says reluctantly, "it isn't. I know it's not something you want to hear right now, Harry, but you're going to have to consider that someone in your group might be working with the other side."

"Malfoy," Ginny says at once, but I shake my head.

"He hates them," I say. "I'd swear to it. They killed his girlfriend, Ginny. They were engaged - he told me so."

"All right," Ginny says. "Let's ask him."

Easy enough - if he weren't ten years in the past at the moment. "That means asking Hermione," I warn. "Sure you want to do that just now?"

"Yes," Ginny says, but she doesn't seem to be in any hurry to go back outside.

Bill laughs. "Where are Ron and Hermione, anyway?" he asks, looking around. "Slipped out for a bit of privacy?"

"Something like that," I say, not daring to look at Ginny.

"There they are now," Bill says, nodding at the door.

I look over. Ron looks pale, but he doesn't appear to have any physical damage. Hermione, looking resolute, is holding tightly to his hand. She catches my eye and nods as they approach. She must have talked him into it, then.

"I'll just go have a word with her," I say to Bill, and hurry over. Ginny's right behind me.

"It's all right," Hermione says to us.

"I still don't like it," Ron says. "And we're going to have a proper plan for once before we do anything." He looks threateningly down at Hermione, who smiles up at him reassuringly.

"We'll go over every possible contingency," she promises. "And you'll be right there beside me the whole time."

He will? "How?" I ask. "Under the Cloak?"

Ron shakes his head. "I'm going to be one of them, too," he tells us. "A Death Eater. We can take a bit of hair off one of the ones we've got tied up."

Ginny looks at me doubtfully. "It was the only way he'd agree," Hermione says with a sigh. "But I'm sure it'll be all right, as long as I do all the talking."

"If we're going to plan, let's get on with it," Ron says. "Will we go upstairs? Ab won't care if we use his sitting room."

"Not yet," Ginny says. "I think we're going to need Malfoy before we do anything else."

**Ron**

Bloody Malfoy. I reckon Ginny's right - he has to have been the one who collected hair from all of us and gave it to the Death Eaters. "Leave him where he is," I say. "We don't need any more double-crosses."

"We don't _know_ it was him," Hermione says, even though I can tell she thinks it was. "Talitha could have taken my hair at any time."

"Talitha wasn't with them tonight," Ginny points out. "And she couldn't have gotten everyone's. Malfoy had a perfect opportunity - and don't you think it's a bit odd that the only people who had doubles were the same ones who were all here at the Hog's Head at the same time as Malfoy?"

"Well - yes," Hermione admits. "Look, I think it was probably him, too, but we ought to at least give him a chance to defend himself."

"A chance to lie, you mean," I say.

"I'll talk to him," Harry says quietly. "If Malfoy didn't do it, that means someone else did. We have to find out who before we go any further."

Waste of time if you ask me, but there's no point in arguing. "Fine," I say. "You and Ginny go, then. But if it turns out he's guilty, I think you ought to leave him where he is."

Harry gives me a faint smile. "If he's guilty…" he starts, but doesn't finish the sentence.

Ginny's eyes meet mine for a second. Malfoy won't be able to put anything past her. "How many turns, Hermione?" she asks, holding up Talitha's hourglass from around her neck.

Hermione considers. "I think you'd better make it a few hours past the time we dropped him off," she says. "Just in case he had the chance to talk to Zabini. That would make it - who's got a quill?"

**Draco**

Whatever year it is, it's still bloody winter, and I don't want to stay outside any longer than I have to. There's the Three Broomsticks, of course - I might go there. Only it's still early in the morning, and I'm not sure what time Rosmerta opens up - if it's even Rosmerta. This could be fifty years before she was born, for all I know.

It occurs to me suddenly that there's no need to stay in Hogsmeade. The Leaky Cauldron's been around for hundreds of years, so it's bound to be there. Anyway, I'd feel less conspicuous there. Hogsmeade's so small that strangers tend to stick out.

The Cauldron's already full of people having cups of tea while they plan their errands. I take a seat at a small table next to a woman with two little girls and look about, trying to spot someone I recognize. There's Tom - but Tom's looked the same for as long as I can remember. I can't tell what year it is by looking at him.

The woman next to me sets down her cup and stands, reaching for her bag. "Come along, girls," she says briskly. The older one follows her, but the smaller one hangs back, staring at me with wide eyes. She can't be more than five or six, but surely she ought to know the date.

"Hello," I say, trying to sound friendly. I'm not a fan of small children in general, but this one seems harmless enough. She gives me a shy smile.

"Hello," she says. "Are you having tea? We're going shopping. Daphne needs new dress robes, and I need shoes."

The other little girl joins us. "Astoria, come on!" she says, rolling her eyes. "You know you aren't allowed to talk to strangers."

Astoria? Daphne? "Is your mother Mrs. Greengrass?" I ask.

Daphne looks at me through narrowed eyes. "Do you know my mother?" she asks suspiciously. "Why didn't you say good morning to her, then?"

"I wasn't sure it was her," I lie. I turn to the smaller girl. "How old are you, Astoria?"

"Don't answer," Daphne says bossily, but Astoria smiles at me again.

"I'm six," she says proudly. "Daphne's eight. How old are you?"

Daphne rolls her eyes again. I never did like her much, even though she was Pansy's best friend at school.

"Daphne! Astoria! What are you girls doing?" Mrs. Greengrass is making her way back over to us.

"This man says he knows you, Mother," Daphne says, turning.

Oh, hell. I get up quickly and head for the street before she catches me. When I look back, Mrs. Greengrass is shepherding her daughters into Diagon Alley. Astoria looks over her shoulder and waves at me. Before I can stop myself, I wave back.

"Are you in or out, lad?" a man inquires jovially from behind me. I realize I'm blocking the doorway.

"Sorry," I say hastily, stepping out into the street. Daphne was in my year, so if she's eight now, then it's ten years ago. None of it's happened yet. Potter's still living with the Muggles… the Dark Lord hasn't returned… my Aunt Bellatrix and her husband are still locked up in Azkaban…

I'm safe here, but only for a short time. In less than three years, Harry Potter will start his first term at Hogwarts, and the Dark Lord will make his way back from the forests of Albania. For a minute I think wildly that maybe I could stop all of it, with what I know. I could be the hero, instead of Potter.

Only I couldn't - not really. I can't live now - not when I'm already living as an eight-year-old boy at Malfoy Manor. And what if I got myself killed - what would happen to the eight-year-old Draco? Anyway, there's no point. What's done is done. The thing to do now is to wake Zabini up and try to figure some way out of this mess.

I'm about to Disapparate when someone catches my eye. Why, it's Father! I duck into an alley before he can spot me - even though he'd hardly be likely to recognize me. He passes me without a second look and sweeps into the Cauldron.

Led by an irresistible impulse, I follow him.

**Hermione**

I wish Ron was doing this bit, but he's busy supervising the transfer of the captured Death Eaters to Aberforth's store room. "Persimmon's nice," he assured me carelessly. "She won't mind."

Possibly not, but I still feel rather awkward. However, Persimmon doesn't seem at all surprised at my request.

"Of course I can get you some Polyjuice Potion," she says readily. "But would you mind telling me what you need it for?"

I hesitate. I know Ron and Harry both trust Persimmon, but I really don't know her awfully well. "I'm not going to try and stop you." Persimmon says, almost as though she's reading my mind. "But perhaps I can help. I'm not _quite_ past it yet, even if certain people seem to think so."

"Ron doesn't think so," I say quickly. "And neither do I." I look around, but no one's paying attention to us. "I'm going to disguise myself as Talitha," I say in a low voice.

"Oh, brilliant!" Persimmon says, beaming at me. "You ought to be able to do it beautifully, seeing as you worked with her for so long."

She's the first person who hasn't tried to talk me out of it. "I think I should be able to fool them for long enough," I say, suddenly feeling much more confident.

"Of course you will," Persimmon says at once. "What are you going to do?"

"Get them out of Azkaban for a start," I say.

Persimmon, to my surprise, shakes her head. "Oh, no, my dear," she says decisively. "Azkaban's the very place for all of them. What you need to do is get everyone else _out_."

I stare at her. It's so simple, it's perfect. They'll already be in prison - all I have to do is keep them there. "If we can seal off the escape routes somehow…" I say thoughtfully.

"Gawain has a book about Azkaban somewhere in his office," Persimmon says. "I expect we can find what we need in there."

A book - she's a woman after my own heart. "I'll go straight away," Persimmon says, getting to her feet. She stops and looks at me for a moment. "If you don't mind my asking, how on earth did you manage to persuade Ron to let you do this?" she asks frankly. "He rather strikes me as the overprotective type."

"He is," I admit. "He's going to disguise himself as one of Talitha's followers and come with me."

"Oh dear," Persimmon says, frowning slightly. "Well, I expect it'll be all right as long as he keeps quiet."

I spot Ron in the doorway and hurry over to him. "We've got them all stored away, and Seamus and Michael are keeping watch," he assures me. "Lavender wanted to go with Seamus, but Michael wouldn't have her. He said all they'd do is snog and he'd be bored senseless."

_Well done, Michael,_ I think privately. "Can you tell who any of them are yet?" I ask.

"One's definitely Goyle," Ron says. "I could tell by the stupid expression. The others are only half-transformed so far, but Ernie thinks one of them's Sebastian Flint."

"You might be Flint, I suppose," I say thoughtfully. "Only I'm not sure exactly how involved he was."

"Well, I'm definitely not being Goyle," Ron says firmly.

I look around. "Where are Harry and Ginny? They have a Time-Turner; they shouldn't be gone long enough for anyone to notice."

"They were going to meet us upstairs," Ron says. "They're probably already waiting for us."

**Draco**

I keep well back at first in case he spots me, but I soon realize I needn't bother. Father looks neither to the right nor the left as he strides along the crowded streets. People seem to melt out of the way as he approaches - a talent I don't appear to possess.

"Excuse me," I mutter, dodging shoppers as I try to keep up with Father. He's turning down Knockturn Alley now - probably going to Borgin & Burke's. I slow my steps as he approaches the shop door. I can't follow him in there - Borgin scarcely ever has any customers.

I pretend to be looking at the window display. Father's at the counter, talking to Borgin, but I can't hear what they're saying through the glass. I watch as he reaches under his cloak. Maybe he's getting rid of some undesirable possessions - Borgin was always good for that. But no - Father's taking out his money bag. I watch as he counts out the coins, pushing them across the counter at Borgin. Now he's putting something in his pocket - I can't see what.

I duck into the alley as Father comes out. Now he's heading back toward the Cauldron, maintaining the same rapid pace as before. Again, I follow - only to see him Disapparate the moment he reaches the street.

Now what? I suppose I could go back and try to wake Zabini, but I want to see what Father's bought. He'll be headed home, most likely. I hesitate - this is far more risky than following him through Diagon Alley - but my curiosity's getting the better of me. I needn't go inside the house - there's an oak tree that offers a perfect view into Father's study window.

At first I think Father's already gone inside the Manor, but then I spot him striding across the grounds. This is getting stranger and stranger. Father loathes the out-of-doors and spends as little time there as possible. I let him get well ahead and then follow.

Father disappears into the woods behind the Manor. There's a path that leads to the lake, but he turns abruptly aside instead of following it. I've never been down this way - Mother always said there were adders in here.

_It's winter,_ I remind myself, but still I keep a sharp eye on the ground. Father, apparently fearless of adders, walks briskly ahead of me. The woods are starting to thin out now, and I can hear something - water?

Father stops abruptly and I duck behind a tree. "Show yourself," he commands sharply.

Oh, bloody hell - I've been spotted. I'm just about to try Disapparating when I see a cloaked figure come forward from behind another tree.

"You've got it?" he croaks in a low voice.

"Yes, I've got it - and it cost me quite a lot more than I'd been led to believe," Father says, sounding annoyed. "Tell my brother-in-law I expect payment in full when he returns."

His brother-in-law? _Rodolphus?_ I strain to hear the cloaked man's answer.

"That's between you and him," he says with a shrug. "I was hired to fetch something back to Azkaban and that's what I'm doing." He holds out a gloved hand. Father appears to hesitate; then drops something into it.

"Tell him - " he starts, but the cloaked man's already turning away.

"I'm not delivering no messages," he mutters. "I was hired to - "

"Yes, quite," Father says, his voice ice-cold. "Be off with you, then!"

I watch along with Father as the cloaked man turns and heads back in the direction he came from. "Mind the river," Father says, his voice edged with malice. "The ice has broken, and the bridge is rather unreliable."

The river - that's the water I heard. The cloaked man makes no response; merely hurrying away. Father stands still for a moment; then turns back toward the house. I draw back into the trees until he's safely past me.

But I'm not interested in following Father any more - I want to know what he gave to the man in the cloak. The man who's fetching something for Rodolphus…. maybe the very something Potter and Talitha have both been seeking so avidly.

I'm just in time to watch him start across the river. The bridge, as Father warned, is shaky and missing slats in several places. The cloaked man sets one foot on it; then appears to come to a sudden decision. Stepping back onto firm ground, he turns and Disapparates.

Well, so much for that. I suppose I might follow him as far as Azkaban, but what then? I won't be able to get inside. I start back toward the Manor; then stop as the bridge catches my eye. Supposing I - as my younger self - were to come exploring this way one of these days? Of course, I _didn't_, as far as I can recall, but I don't quite understand this time-travel business. Anyway, that bridge is certainly dangerous and ought to be destroyed.

One sweep of my wand disposes of most of it. Only the first few steps remain, hanging precariously over the rushing water.

I realize that it felt damned good to blow something up. Maybe I'll get Zabini and do the same thing to that bloody Shack. In any case, the time has come to make a decision. If Weasley and his wife are dead, Zabini and I will just have to make our way as best we can in the world of ten years ago. Maybe we can go to Monte Carlo - Zabini ought to like that.

**Harry**

Zabini's still slumped in a corner of the cellar, but there's no sign of Malfoy. "We've gone too far ahead," I say to Ginny. "We must've already come and gotten him."

"And left Zabini here?" Ginny asks doubtfully. "Anyway, I think Malfoy's still about somewhere. There are footprints leading across that field."

I look out the window. She's right. "Bloody Malfoy," I say, annoyed. "He might have stayed put."

"He's probably hiding from us," Ginny says. "If he's the one who stole everyone's hair, then he knew damned well what was going to happen last night."

_If_… but he didn't - I'd swear to it. "I'm going to go and have a look for him," I say decisively, pulling the Invisibility Cloak from my pocket.

"I'm coming with you," Ginny says, ducking underneath. "It's too cold to stay here by myself."

We're only a few steps from the door when I hear a cracking sound and Malfoy appears. He's darkened his hair and he's got a beard, but it's quite obviously him. "Where the hell have you been?" I snap, and he jumps a foot.

"Stop playing games, Potter," he says irritably. "I went for a walk, that's all. So you're still alive."

"No, we're ghosts come to haunt you," Ginny says, throwing the Cloak back. "Come back inside for a minute. We need to talk to you."

A few minutes are all that's needed to convince me that Malfoy knew nothing of the plot to impersonate us at the reception. The dumbfounded look on his face says it all.

"How did they manage it?" he asks blankly. "You've got to have hair or something to get Polyjuice to work."

"Precisely," Ginny says, giving him a sharp look. "Hair from everyone who was at the Hog's Head yesterday… I wonder who could have managed _that_."

Malfoy turns pale. "It wasn't me," he protests. "I swear, it wasn't me! I swear on - on Clarissa."

Ginny and I exchange glances. "He's lying," hers says, but I believe him.

"He's telling the truth," a voice says from behind me. "Malfoy wasn't the one who gathered up stray hairs from all of your little friends. I did that."

We turn to see Zabini, looking rather the worse for wear as he brushes dirt from his robes. "You saw me yourself, Potter," he reminds me. "Remember? New Year's Eve at Finnegan's rather overrated little club?"

Malfoy stares at him, mouth open. "So that's why you insisted on going there," he says. "I wondered - it wasn't your sort of place at all."

"Certainly not," Zabini says, with a reminiscent shudder. "However, Talitha needed my assistance, and of course I obliged her. Between us, we were able to gather everything we needed. I passed the results over to Warrington, and he - well, I expect he found a use for it." He smirks. "Warrington was rather annoyed to find that I'd stuck all the hairs into the same jar, but I could hardly be expected to stop and label them."

Ginny gives him a furious look. "You'll go to Azkaban for that," she warns him.

"I hardly think so," Zabini says, yawning. "There's nothing illegal about gathering up loose hair. After all, _I_ didn't do anything with it. As you all know very well, I've spent the last several hours in this very uncomfortable - er - house." He looks around disparagingly at the last word. "Is this part of the Weasley estate?"

Ginny raises her wand threateningly. "Don't," I warn her in a low voice. "We still need him."

Zabini glances at me out of the corners of his eyes. "What makes you think I have any interest in helping you, Potter?" he asks coldly.

"I think you do," I say. "I'm the only one who can protect you from Talitha."

Zabini looks bored. "Is that all you're offering?" he asks. "Protection?"

Ginny takes a deep breath. I put my hand on her arm. "What else do you want?" I ask Zabini.

"Immunity from prosecution," Zabini says immediately. "I don't believe I've done anything wrong, but I should hate to be questioned by the Wizengamut. It's _so_ difficult to live down the rumors afterwards - just ask Lucius Malfoy!" He smirks maliciously at Malfoy, who stares back at him blankly. "Oh, and I'd like my wand back, if you don't mind. I really must try to repair my robes before I go."

I stare at him. "Monte Carlo," Malfoy explains. "He's got a very important party to go to."

There's a choking noise from Ginny's direction. I don't dare to catch her eye. "I can't promise you won't be questioned at some point," I say to Zabini. "But I'll take your statement now, and maybe that'll be good enough."

"It'll have to be," Zabini says with a shrug. "I've no intention of returning." He folds his arms and leans back against the wall. "Very well, Potter - fire away."

"I want names," I say, getting straight to the point. "How many people at the Ministry are involved?"

**Ron**

Harry and Ginny are waiting for us in Aberforth's sitting room when we get upstairs. Malfoy's not with them.

"Malfoy didn't do it," Harry says at once. "It was Zabini - and I found out a lot of other things from him, too."

"Where are they, anyway?" Hermione asks, looking around. "You didn't leave them ten years in the past, did you?"

"We were tempted in Zabini's case," Ginny says. "No, we brought them back."

"They're in the Room of Requirement until I can think what to do with them," Harry explains. "We might need Malfoy later on - and I don't trust Zabini."

I don't trust either one of them. "What else did Zabini have to say?" I ask.

"He gave us a list of names," Harry says. "It goes even deeper than we'd thought. And he didn't seem to know anything about Talitha being captured, so I didn't mention it."

There's a knock on the door. Persimmon pokes her head in. "Sorry to interrupt," she says, looking at us curiously. "Hermione, I've brought what you asked for." She holds out a flask. "And here's your book."

Another book? I manage not to groan as Hermione reaches for it eagerly. "Don't go," I say to Persimmon. "We can use all the help we can get."

Persimmon sits down, looking pleased. "It's been a few years since I've been to Azkaban," she says. "But I don't suppose it's changed any - except that the Dementors are gone, of course."

"No loss there," Harry says. "But the guards they've hired to replace them are useless. Half of them are criminals themselves."

"Then we'll lock them up along with Talitha's lot," Persimmon says briskly. "You've got the beginnings of a good plan there."

Hermione raises her head from the book. "Here's a map of the prison," she says, tapping the page in front of her. "We'll need people to go around and seal all of the entrances and exits once we're inside - all except one."

"Neville can be in charge of that," Harry says. "I'll go and get him."

I lean over Hermione's shoulder to see the map and nearly upset the flask of Polyjuice Potion.

"You'll need to go back to Grimmauld Place to get a piece of Talitha's hair," Ginny says, rescuing the flask and moving it firmly away from me.

"We can ask Kreacher to do that for us," Hermione answers. "I don't think any of us ought to leave this pub again till we're ready to go to Azkaban."

Harry comes back with Neville close behind him. "We ought to have two people on each exit," Neville says, once we've explained the plan. "Just in case - in case something happens. I'll take Hannah with me, of course, and let's see - I don't want to put Parvati and Lavender together in case they panic…" He Summons a quill and a piece of parchment from Aberforth's desk and begins sketching a rough copy of the map.

"You might as well send for Kreacher," I whisper to Hermione. "This is going to take a while."

Kreacher appears almost instantly, clutching a huge handful of dark hair. "We didn't need quite that much," I tell him, choking back a laugh. Talitha's going to have a bald spot the size of a Galleon when she wakes up.

"Well done, Kreacher," Hermione says, giving me a reproving look, but I notice her lips are twitching. She reaches for the flask of Polyjuice.

"Hang on," I say, putting a hand on her arm. "You can't start without me."

"We've got Xanthia Davis and that Snodgrass woman from Muggle Relations in the store room along with Goyle and Flint," Neville offers, looking over at us. "The others haven't transformed all the way yet."

I'm not being a girl - or Goyle - and I've never met Sebastian Flint. I don't know if I can act enough like him to convince anyone. I look around helplessly, and my eye falls on Ariana's portrait. Of course - the answer's right in front of me. "I'll be Blaise Zabini," I say. "Nobody'll think it's strange to see him with Talitha - they'll just think they've got back together." And if Hermione and I have to do a little snogging to look convincing - well, I'm sure we can manage.

Hermione rolls her eyes at me. "Hurry up, then," she says.

I pull myself up on the mantel and step through into the passage.

**Hermione**

I look across the black water at what I know is Azkaban and can't repress a shudder.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Ron says in my ear.

_But I do._ "Let's get it over with," I say firmly. "Have you got your flask?"

Ron holds it up and taps it lightly against mine. I close my eyes and drink. Talitha tastes horrible - not quite as bad as Bellatrix did, but I still have to concentrate on not getting sick.

"Zabini didn't taste like much of anything," Ron says, surprised. "I hope I got enough hair." He grins at me. "Maybe I should've had Kreacher collect it."

But he's changing before my eyes. "It's working," I tell him. And mine is, too - I can feel it.

A minute later, the transformation's complete. "You should've borrowed Zabini's robes," I say, watching Ron roll up sleeves that are suddenly too long for him. "He wouldn't be caught dead in clothes that don't fit perfectly."

Harry detaches himself from the group clustered behind the rocks and comes toward us. "Persimmon's sending the boat now," he tells us. "You two had better go across first, and then send it back for the rest of us."

I nod, slipping my hand into Ron's as I look again across the sea. How could anyone spot a boat in the darkness?

But before long I can see it - just a spot of white rushing toward us across the water. "In you get," Ron says, lifting me easily over the side. "Well, Harry - I reckon we'll see you over there."

As if it were waiting for these words, the boat takes off at top speed, bearing us toward the prison on a rock. 

**Draco**

I've had just about enough of Potter and his attitude. "Stay here, Malfoy," he said to me, like he was giving orders to a house-elf. "I may need you later." And then he left. Left me alone with Zabini, who wasn't best-pleased about any of it and lost no opportunity to tell me so.

"It's the Room of Requirement, isn't it?" he'd said, breaking off at last to gaze around. "I took quite a few girls here in my Hogwarts days."

I spent a lot of time in here, too, but I obviously didn't have as much fun as Zabini.

"We can leave through the school, then," Zabini'd said, finally sounding pleased about something. "I still haven't got a wand, of course, but there's bound to be some little Gryffindor or Hufflepuff I can take one off. Come on, Malfoy."

That's when I Stunned him. I didn't know I was going to do it until I - I just did. I'm not sure why, really. I certainly don't care if he takes a wand away from some sniveling little first-year. Maybe I was just tired of listening to him.

Weasley showed up soon after that. "Did you do that?" he asked, looking surprised to see Zabini sprawled on the floor.

"He annoyed me," I said coldly.

Weasey laughed. "He annoys everyone," he said. I watched as he walked over to Zabini and bent over him.

"What are you doing?" I demanded sharply. I was afraid he was going to bring him round and then it'd start up all over again.

"Nothing," Weasley said, straightening. He turned to leave.

"Hang on," I protested. "You can't just leave me here."

Weasley eyed me with dislike. "If it was up to me, I would have left you in the Shack ten years ago," he said. "But Harry thinks he might need you for something later. Mind you stay here."

With that, he was gone.

My first impulse was to leave - who the hell does Weasley think he is, anyway? - but I've still got the same problem I had before. I'm still not safe anywhere.

I feel like a damned idiot, though, sitting here waiting for Potter like one of those losers who followed him around all through school. I'm smarter than Potter any day of the week - he's just had better luck, that's all. I could prove it, too - if I could only think how.

My eye falls on Zabini again, and all of a sudden I realize there's a way. There's one thing I never told Potter - and Zabini never told him either. That notebook of Talitha's… it could be the key to everything.

Now all I have to do is figure out where they've hidden Talitha. I turn reluctantly to Zabini.

_"Ennervate,"_ I whisper.

**Hermione**

It was so cold in the boat that I almost wished we'd get here faster, but now that we've arrived… well, best to get on with it. The fog makes it difficult to pick our way up the rocky cliff, and I stumble even with Ron's hand guiding me.

"Move a bit closer," he says, and I do, but I can't take any comfort from it. It feels like Blaise Zabini next to me, even though I know it's really Ron. He even smells like Zabini - some horrid cologne that I'm sure was outrageously expensive.

"Do I smell like Talitha's lemon stuff?" I whisper.

Ron buries his face in my neck to consider. "More like Harry's wine-cellar," he says apologetically.

Oh, brilliant. Now they'll all think I've - she's - been drinking. I hope they don't decide to ignore my instructions.

"We're nearly at the top," Ron says. "Bloody fog - even wand light doesn't cut through it."

"Just as well," I say. "It'll help to hide us."

We edge around the fortress to the side entrance Neville found for us. Unbelievably, it's unlocked.

"Some prison this is," Ron mutters. "Be careful - they could be waiting on the other side."

They aren't, though. The huge kitchen appears to be deserted, although signs of hastily-abandoned food preparation are everywhere.

We're halfway across the floor when we hear footsteps. "In here!" I whisper, ducking into a nearby cupboard. Ron crowds in after me, holding the door closed with his hand.

"- bloody expect us to keep down a riot when we haven't had a bite all day," someone says crossly. "Let 'em all escape, I say! They'll fall off the cliff in this fog and drown themselves, most likely."

"And leave us without a job," another man's voice reminds him.

"Don't know as I'd mind," the first man says. "The pay's well enough, but I can't stick this bloody rock much longer. Depressing, that's what it is."

"Have a drink," his friend advises. "The Warden keeps his private stock in here - we might just as well help ourselves. We can always tell him one of the Aurors took it."

I throw Ron a panicked look, but they're heading for a different cupboard. They leave soon afterwards, but it's several minutes before we dare to move.

"All clear," Ron whispers, opening the cupboard door an inch. "I'll bet they went to hide someplace so they wouldn't get caught with the Warden's 'private stock'."

I take a deep breath and follow him back into the kitchen. "This way, I think," I say, pointing to an iron door. According to the map, it should lead into a main corridor. We just have to keep well out of sight until we can spot Talitha's allies.

"Hang on," Ron says, stopping and reaching into his pocket. I wait while he whispers into the mirror, listening intently.

"Everyone's made it across," he tells me, putting the mirror away.

That makes me feel slightly better. At least we're not alone here. "Let's go," I say, turning back to the door.

"I'll go first," Ron says firmly, reaching for the handle. "Keep behind me."

"There's no need to be afraid," I remind him, but I might as well be talking to the wall. "We're Talitha and Zabini, remember?"

"That's not going to help us with the Aurors," Ron says, easing the heavy door open. "They - keep _behind_ me, Hermione!"

"You'd better try and remember to call me Talitha," I say, a bit put out. I'm perfectly capable, after all, and -

The noise hits us as the door opens. People are shouting, screaming - I hear pounding feet - and everywhere there's heavy black smoke from a hundred curses.

I edge closer to Ron and he looks down at me smugly. "Nothing to be afraid of, _Talitha_," he says, and I realize that he's actually enjoying this. I wouldn't be an Auror for anything - it seems to me that you'd have to be a little bit mad to like this sort of thing.

"It sounds like most of it's coming from down that way," I say, pointing. "That's where the prisoners' cells are, according to the map."

"Then we'll go this way," Ron says, turning in the opposite direction. "Mind you do a Supersensory Charm so no one can sneak up behind you."

A what? I give him a puzzled look. "Oh, hell," Ron mutters. "I wasn't going to - well, never mind. You do it like this."

It's really a very clever charm, I discover. I can't imagine why he never showed me before. In any case, no one does sneak up behind us and we make it to the second floor without incident.

I hesitate at the top of the stairs. "The Warden's room, do you think?" I whisper.

Ron nods grimly. "I reckon that's someone's headquarters," he says. "Either the Aurors or the other lot. Guess we might as well find out."

**Harry**

It takes three more trips to get everyone across. We could have done with a bigger boat, but Persimmon said this was the only one she could get at without attracting attention. Anyway, we're all here now. I take Ginny's hand, drawing her to one side as Neville disperses his team. He turns to us as the last pair - Dean and Luna - disappears into the fog.

"Hannah and I will stay by the entrance we're leaving open," he says. We've decided on a little-used door on the lower level. According to the book Persimmon found, it's mainly used by the kitchen staff for deliveries. We thought it might be less well-known than the others - and it might offer us a few more hiding places, if necessary.

"Let us get ahead of you and then follow," I tell him. I hear Ron's voice and pull the mirror from my pocket. "We're all here," I whisper. "Where are you?"

"Inside," Ron answers at once. I can't make out anything of his surroundings, except that it's dark. "We got in through the kitchen all right, but there were a couple of guards hanging about. They've just gone, so we're about to head upstairs."

"Be careful," I say, rather uselessly. I squeeze Ginny's hand. "They're in - let's go." I unfold the Cloak, spreading it carefully over both of us.

The kitchen, as Ron said, is deserted. "They could do with a few house-elves here," Ginny whispers. "Kreacher would be horrified if he could see the state of this place."

The riot seems to be happening just below us. If Robards is here, he'll be somewhere in the thick of it. I'd like to have a quick look, just to see what's going on, but Ginny's with me.

"Let's go see," Ginny says in my ear, tugging me toward the noise.

I hesitate. "Too dangerous," I tell her.

"We've got the Cloak, haven't we?" Ginny says impatiently. "Come on, Harry - don't you think we ought to have a look?"

Well - yes. "We're just looking," I say, putting a firm arm around her shoulders. "I don't want you in the middle of this."

Ginny gives me an innocent look that doesn't fool me for a second. "I'll bet Robards is down there," she remarks.

He is if he's still alive. Keeping my arm around Ginny, I lead us down a narrow flight of stone steps into the dungeons of the prison.

**Rodolphus**

I don't know who to blame for my recent imprisonment, but whoever it was is a fool for thinking a Lestrange could be held back by a few flimsy boards and a scatter-brained house-elf. It's rather inconvenient to be without a wand, but I can remedy that easily enough. First, however, I'll need some assistance.

It takes Lucius an unreasonably long time to notice the tapping at his study window. Deep into the firewhisky, no doubt. "Who's there?" he slurs, finally opening the window a crack and peering out uncertainly into the darkness.

"Let me in, fool," I snap.

Lucuis takes a step backwards. "No," he whispers, almost to himself. I see his wand come up and hastily duck down out of range.

"We have your son," I tell him. "Let me in or I can't answer for what might happen to him."

"Lucius?" Ah, the lovely Narcissa. "What on earth are you doing? It's freezing in here. Why have you got the window open?"

"My dear sister-in-law," I say softly.

Narcissa's pale face turns even whiter. "You're dead," she protests. "Lucius, you told me he was dead!"

"He's not," Lucius says, rather unnecessarily.

Narcissa pushes him aside and leans out the window. "What do you want, Rodolphus?" she asks coldly. "We can't do anything to help you now."

"Narcissa," Lucius says. "He says they have Draco…"

The window opens the rest of the way. "You'd better come in," Narcissa says. "Quickly, before someone sees you! We're being watched, you know."

"As a matter of fact, you're not," I tell her, brushing snow from my cloak. "I made sure of that before entering the grounds. It would appear that you're not as important as you think you are, my dear."

"Where is my son?" Narcissa demands, ignoring this.

"All in good time," I tell her. "As you've no doubt realized, I've been in hiding for the last several months. The Dark Lord may be gone, but those of us who remain are pledged to carry out his plans. I was surprised to discover you weren't with us, Lucius."

"It's not safe," Lucius says sulkily. "We're being watched, I tell you! If there's no one about tonight, it's only because they're all at that riot at Azkaban."

So it's turned into a full-fledged riot at Azkaban, has it? That suits my purpose admirably.

"Speaking of Azkaban," I begin. "Do you recall, Lucius, when I was unfortunately imprisoned there myself many years ago? I asked you to obtain something for me, do you remember?"

Lucius gives me a guarded look. "I remember," he mutters.

"What?" Narcissa asks blankly, but neither of us bothers to answer her.

"I gave it to your messenger," Lucius says to me. "And I've never yet been paid back for it, I might add!"

"I could pay you back," I say coldly, "by sparing your son's life. Or quite possibly, not."

Lucius and Narcissa exchange frightened looks. "What do you want, Rodolphus?" Narcissa asks hoarsely.

"Only a few minor favors," I say smoothly. "First, and most importantly, I require a wand."

**Ron**

I force Hermione behind me for about the fifteenth time - who's the bloody Auror here, anyway? - and lean in close to the door to the Warden's office. Here's where I could do with some Extendable Ears, but I never thought to bring them.

"We can't just go barging in," Hermione whispers. "No matter who it is, they'll try to Disarm us straight off. We'll just have to wait and see if anyone goes in or out."

That could take hours, though. "Stand back," I whisper, pulling the one invention of Fred and George's that I did think to bring out of my pocket.

The bang goes off seconds later, and immediately the door opens a crack. "I don't see anything," a voice says.

"Go and look properly, idiot!" someone else snaps. "It sounded like it came from just outside this room."

A moment later, Nott steps cautiously out into the corridor.

Hermione starts forward, but I stop her - again. "Hello, Nott," I say, standing in front of Hermione so Nott can't see her.

Nott stares at me. "Blaise?" he says uncertainly. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard this was a good place to meet women," I say, doing my best to sound like Zabini. I raise my eyebrows at him, fixing a bored expression on my face.

It must be a good enough imitation, because Nott grins at me. "Montague said you'd left town because of a girl," he says. "What happened, Blaise, did her husband come home early?"

Doesn't he know that Talitha's supposed to be Zabini's girlfriend? "Something like that," I say, recovering quickly. I gesture to the room behind him. "Is Montague in there?"

"Montague and Warrington and me," Nott says. "Goyle got caught earlier. You missed it, Blaise - we crashed Weasley and Granger's wedding reception and - "

_Yeah, I was there, thanks._ "Who's in charge?" I interrupt.

"Well, no one, really," Nott says. "That is, I suppose someone is, but-"

"There's a bloody riot going on downstairs," I say incredulously.

"I know," Nott says sheepishly. "But they seem to have things well in hand, don't they? We thought we'd just let them carry on with it."

This is going to be easier than I thought. "Well, someone's in charge now," I say briskly. "Talitha's here with me, and she'll give you your instructions."

Nott gives me a blank look. "Who the hell is Talitha?" he asks.

**Draco**

"What happened?" Zabini asks, looking about in a dazed manner. "Who Stunned me?"

"Weasley," I lie brazenly. "He's gone. Listen, Zabini. I've got an idea."

"Tell me again why we're doing this," Zabini says, once I've outlined my plan.

"You want to be safe from Talitha, don't you?" I say, using my most persuasive voice. "What are you going to do, hide for the rest of your life? If we can get that notebook, we'll have her in our power."

"You didn't think it was such a good idea last time," Zabini says suspiciously. "You said she'd kill me."

"We're not going to tell her we have it," I explain. "We'll tell her Potter's got it. Then she'll go after him."

Zabini still looks dubious. "We're not really going to give it to him, are we?" he asks.

"No, of course not," I say, trying to control my impatience. Zabini was always the one person I couldn't bully at school - mostly because he never cares what anyone else thinks. "It's a brilliant plan, actually. Once I had a chance to think, I realized you had the right idea all along."

This would never work on anyone less egotistical than Zabini, but he merely looks gratified. "It was rather clever of me," he says modestly. He starts for the door. "I still need a wand," he reminds me. "Let's go catch a first-year."

"Are you mad?" I ask impatiently. "If you take a wand off a kid, we'll have every teacher in the place down on us."

"It's the middle of the night, anyway," Zabini says, looking at his watch. "I expect they're all in bed."

"I don't want to go out through Hogwarts," I say. "We'll just be trapped in the grounds. We're going to have to go back through the Hog's Head."

This time it's Zabini who hesitates. "_They're_ all there, aren't they?" he asks. "Potter and that lot… what are they all doing there, anyway?"

"Weasley and Granger's wedding reception," I say, giving him the short version.

Zabini's lip curls. "Those two should not be allowed to breed," he says firmly. "Just imagine what their children will be like."

Thanks a lot, Zabini - I hadn't thought of _that_ particular angle. There could be dozens of them if Weasley's as prolific as his parents. On the other hand, Granger's an only child, so perhaps there's hope. "I think everyone's left," I say, changing the subject. "Potter had something planned - couldn't you tell?"

Sure enough, the Hog's Head is silent when we step cautiously through the portrait a few minutes later. "Aberforth must be downstairs," I whisper. "Keep an eye out while I fetch you a wand." I think it was this drawer he kept them in…

"Someone's coming," Zabini whispers.

I grab a wand at random and slam the drawer shut. "Oh," I hear Zabini say. "It's just a house-elf. Out of the way, you!"

"Harry Potter told the son of the Malfoys to stay in the Hidden Room," a voice croaks.

I shove the extra wand into my back pocket and peer out into the hall. Oh, hell - not that bloody elf of Potter's again. Why doesn't it just die or something - it must be hundreds of years old.

"I'm helping Potter," I tell him, playing for time.

The elf eyes me suspiciously. "Kreacher's master did not tell Kreacher of this," he remarks.

"Of course he didn't," Zabini begins impatiently, but I motion him to silence. Potter probably does tell his house-elf all sorts of things he shouldn't. He doesn't know how to treat them properly, but I suppose that's to be expected.

"Listen, er, Kreacher," I say, forcing myself to smile at him. "Potter sent me a message. He needs me to get something for him - something of Talitha's." I look at him thoughtfully. "I don't suppose you know what he's done with her?"

Kreacher does know - I can tell by the expression on his face. "Kreacher might," he says guardedly.

"Excellent," I say. "Supposing you take us to her."

"Harry Potter did not tell Kreacher to take the son of the Malfoys to the bad witch," Kreacher states flatly. He folds his arms and glares at me.

"Well, this isn't getting us anywhere," Zabini remarks. "Listen, elf, how would you like to - "

Someone's coming. I elbow Zabini, trying to make him shut up, but it's too late.

"Oh, it's you again," Aberforth says, glaring at me. Nice to see that he hasn't lost his enthusiasm for me. "I thought you were supposed to be keeping him out of the way." He motions disgustedly at Zabini.

"Well, I like that," Zabini says, glaring suspiciously at me. "Gone over to the other side, have you, Draco? Are you sure it was Weasley who Stunned me?"

"Shut up," I tell him. I turn to Aberforth. "There's something I have to do for Potter," I say. No harm in trying it on him, is there? "Talitha's got something - a notebook."

"Harry never said anything about any notebook," Aberforth says, giving me the same suspicious look as Zabini.

"Because he doesn't know about it," I explain.

The house-elf snorts in satisfaction. "Lie to Kreacher, would he," he mutters. "Filthy little beast."

I ignore him. "It could be important," I say to Aberforth. "Potter's gone to Azkaban, hasn't he?"

Aberforth looks startled. "He tell you that?" he demands.

"Where else would he have gone?" I say impatiently. "With Talitha and my uncle both out of the way - "

"Your _uncle_?" Zabini interrupts. "Your uncle Lestrange? So that's who it is!" He looks astonished. "I thought he was dead."

It's my turn to be astonished. "You've been working with him all along," I point out. "Did you think he was a ghost or something?"

"Actually," Zabini says, "I haven't the slightest idea who I've been working with. Other than the usual lot, of course - Warrington and Nott and the rest. I gave Potter some names when he insisted, but it was really only guessing on my part." He smiles as Aberforth's jaw drops. "Most of us only knew a few key people. It was safer that way - in case one of us was caught."

"Your primary contacts," I say dully, thinking of Rodolphus's list.

Zabini nods. "Talitha was mine. To everyone else, she was just Miranda Whatsis from the House-Elf Office."

"Some people know her," I argue, remembering my own kidnapping. "Evelinda Snodgrass, for one. And - "

"The whole point," Zabini says, "is that none of us know everything. Except Talitha, of course. I knew there was someone else helping her mastermind the whole thing, but she wouldn't say who - although I must say it sounds as though it must have been your uncle."

But I knew everyone's name - or I would have, if I hadn't lost that bloody list. Something in what he just told us feels wrong, but I haven't time to stop and figure it out now. "How do you recognize each other, then?" I ask. "The Dark Mark?"

"That's the old way," Zabini says scornfully. "We don't bother with that sort of thing anymore."

"So if Talitha showed up in front of your lot, there's not more than one or two who'd recognize her for who she really is?" Aberforth asks. He looks alarmed, for some reason. I watch his face, looking for clues.

Zabini shakes his head, looking bored. Aberforth and Kreacher exchange anxious looks.

And then I get it. "Tell me she didn't," I say.

"What?" Zabini asks, puzzled, but Aberforth nods slowly.

"Then there's no time to lose," I say. "If you won't tell me where Talitha is, you'd better go yourself and look for that notebook."

"It'd be no good even if I did tell you," Aberforth says to me. "You can't get in there - and neither can I."

Somewhere protected, then. I'll bet she's in Potter's house. We knew where it was - once - but he's added so many charms since then that I'm surprised he can find it himself. My eyes fall on Kreacher. I hate to leave it all up to a house-elf - most of them don't seem to be very bright, and this one's downright unpleasant - but there's really no choice. "You can get to her, though, can't you, Kreacher?" I ask.

"Of course," Zabini says, brightening. "The house-elf can take us. Wizard charms won't keep them out. I remember one time when Mother was working on getting her third husband to propose - "

I cut him off. "Can you?" I say to Kreacher.

Kreacher nods reluctantly. "Kreacher could," he says. "But Kreacher won't."

"But - " I start.

"Kreacher will take the son of the Malfoys," Kreacher continues, as though I hadn't spoken. "Kreacher will not take the other one." He glares pointedly at Zabini.

Fair enough. "You stay here," I say to Zabini. He starts to argue, but he's interrupted by a sharp cracking noise.

A second house-elf appears - a girl one this time. She's babbling so frantically that I can't make any sense of the words.

"I hate when they get over-excited," Zabini remarks, stepping over to a picture on the wall and admiring his reflection in the glass. "Do tell it to shut up, Draco."

I turn toward the elf. "Slow down," Aberforth's telling her.

"Sir, the bad wizard has escaped!" the elf squeaks. "Pasha came to take her turn, and the keg was broken open, sir! And there was no bad wizard inside of it!"

The bad wizard? Rodolphus? I knew Potter was an idiot to let a couple of house-elves take charge of him.

"What about the elf that was watching him?" Aberforth asks sharply.

Pasha the elf shrugs helplessly. "Balto is gone, sir," she whispers. "Pasha called for him, but he did not answer. Pasha is afraid that …" Her voice trails off.

"Take me there," Aberforth says to her. He holds out his arm.

What? "Wait a minute," I say.

Aberforth turns. "Now what?" he asks impatiently.

"It's just - well, what Zabini told us," I say. I glance at him, but he's found a comb in his pocket and he's totally absorbed. "About Talitha," I add, lowering my voice. "Someone ought to go and warn them."

"You'll have to do it," Aberforth says shortly. "I'll have my hands full chasing after your bloody uncle. And if he's killed that elf, I won't answer for what I might do to him!" He glares at me - like it's my fault I'm related to Rodolphus.

"Me?" I say. "But - "

But it's too late. He's gone. Kreacher gives me a truly evil look and extends an arm. I put my hand on it. "Stay here," I say to Zabini. Maybe I ought to Stun him again or something. But he nods, not even turning around to look at me. "All right," I say to Kreacher. "Let's go."

Just as we've started to Disapparate, I feel someone grab my other arm. I try to shake him off, but it's no good.

"You didn't really expect me to let you go without me, did you?" Zabini says to me a second later. He looks around. "What is this place?"

"Potter's house - I think," I say.

"Surely not," Zabini says, looking aghast. "I thought he had plenty of gold."

"Harry Potter lives _upstairs_," Kreacher says repressively. "This is Harry Potter's wine-cellar."

"So it is," Zabini says, brightening. He leans over a wine-rack with interest. "This is rather a nice Burgundy," he remarks. "I can't think what Potter's doing with it - he hasn't the education to appreciate a truly fine wine."

I ignore him. "Where is she?" I ask Kreacher.

"There," Kreacher says, pointing to a far corner.

I light my wand so I can see. There's Talitha - and yet another house-elf is standing guard over her. Something about the elf looks familiar, but they all look rather alike, don't they? This one gives us a brief suspicious look and then immediately returns her attention to her prisoner.

I glance over my shoulder. Zabini's tucked the bottle of Burgundy under one arm and he's examining the label on another. Kreacher scowls at him. "Steal from Kreacher's master, would he?" he mutters.

I take advantage of this to bend over Talitha. The house-elf watches me carefully, but makes no move to stop me as I carefully roll her over. There - what's that in the inside pocket of her cloak? I pull out a small black notebook and stuff it hastily into my own cloak. The house-elf looks surprised, but I put a warning finger to my lips. Now to get out of here - preferably without Zabini.

I turn abruptly as I feel someone close behind me. Zabini lifts a mocking eyebrow and holds up the wand he's just removed from my back pocket. "You _were_ planning to give this to me?" he says.

"Of course I was," I say, and this time I don't know if I'm lying or not.

Zabini pushes past me. "That's odd," he says, peering down at Talitha.

I join him, trying to ignore the house-elf crouched next to her. "What?" I ask, hoping he's not referring to her empty pocket. I don't see anything else odd - except that Talitha's got a rather large chunk of hair missing.

"Bend closer," Zabini says, pointing.

I lean down. The elf looks up at me nervously; then back down at Talitha. I can hear Kreacher behind me, shuffling closer.

"I still don't see - " I start, and then the room around me seems to explode.

**Rodolphus**

"Your wand, Lucius!" I repeat, holding out my hand.

Lucius hesitates. "You've no idea how much trouble I went through to get this," he says. He looks hopefully at his wife. "Narcissa, my dear, perhaps yours - "

"Mine?" Narcissa says incredulously. "You want me to give him mine?" She backs away hastily, and then her face brightens. "He can have Lurleen's. Surely she can manage the housework without it for a day or two."

"Who is Lurleen?" I demand. "I don't want anyone else knowing about this."

"Don't be silly, Rodolphus," Narcissa says impatiently. "Lurleen isn't anyone - she's just our housemaid." She leaves the room before I can utter another objection.

"Have you resorted to _paid_ help, Lucius?" I ask softly. "How the Malfoys have degenerated! Soon you'll be employing Muggles, no doubt."

Lucius glares at me. "No one could expect a woman like Narcissa to clean her own house," he snaps.

Well, perhaps not. Especially if she's as given to throwing crockery as my own dear Bellatrix was. All the same…

I can hear women's voices, arguing. Evidently the unknown Lurleen isn't taking kindly to the idea of being wandless. "Lucius, help me with her!" Narcissa calls.

Lucius flings the door open, and the woman's eyes meet mine for a heart-stopping instant. I've seen those eyes before - at Azkaban. "Lucius, you fool! That's no housemaid!" I snap. "She's an Auror!"

The Auror raises her wand, but I'm already through the window. With her in pursuit, I race across the dark lawn, hiding myself among the trees. She fires another curse at me and misses.

It's been years since I've been here, but I seem to remember a bridge that spans the river. If I can just make it across, I won't be far from the village. I can lose myself in the crowd there - she won't dare use magic around Muggles.

Dodging from tree to tree, I follow the sound of the rushing river.

**Harry**

The smoke is even thicker down here, and the noise is deafening. People are running everywhere, firing curses left and right. It's like the Battle all over again, only on a much smaller scale.

_And without Voldemort,_ I remind myself. _It's not the same - they haven't got a leader…_

But we do - if I can find him. I strain to see through the haze, looking for Robards or Kingsley, but I can't make either of them out. That woman's an Auror, though - and so's that man over there, the one who's just taken out Mr. Goyle.

Ginny tugs at my arm. Her lips move, but I can't hear a word she's saying. I follow the direction of her pointing finger. Hestia! She's fighting two at once, and a third's sneaking up behind her.

Without pausing to think, I fire off a curse at the interloper. He falls like a stone.

"Nice one," Ginny says in my ear. "Mind if I try?"

I grin at her, watching as she takes careful aim at one of Hestia's opponents. She takes him down neatly and Hestia finishes off the other, looking mildly surprised to find herself suddenly alone. It doesn't take long before she's back in the thick of it.

Ginny, encouraged, shoots off another curse at a passing Death Eater. "Careful," I whisper. "If they figure out we're here - "

But it's too late. "That came from over there," someone yells, pointing in our direction.

I grab Ginny's hand. "Run like hell," I tell her. 


	27. Chapter 27

**Draco**

My head's throbbing, and I'm not sure where I am. "Sir?" a voice whispers fearfully. "Sir, is you all right?"

I open my eyes to find a house-elf bending over me. "You were guarding Talitha," I say slowly. Then I remember and sit up with a jolt. "What happened?"

The elf shakes her head. "There was a big bang," she offers.

"The bad witch has escaped," Kreacher croaks from behind me.

The last thing I remember is leaning over her while Zabini… bloody hell. "Zabini," I whisper, and Kreacher nods grimly.

"Kreacher did not want to bring that wizard here," he says, looking at me accusingly.

"Like _I_ did?" I say incredulously. "He grabbed onto me - I couldn't stop him."

Kreacher scowls. "Try to steal Harry Potter's wine, would he?" he mutters.

"Forget about the damned wine," I say impatiently. "He's got Talitha."

The other elf eyes me expectantly. "Surely you is going to get her back, sir?" she says.

"Me?" I say. "Er - "

Kreacher's looking at me, too. "Harry Potter," he says, "would think of a plan."

Of course he would. "Fine," I say crossly. "I'll think of a plan. I - stop _looking_ at me like that!"

Both elves turn away politely while I struggle to my feet. I pace back and forth in the cramped cellar, trying to think. Bloody Zabini - I should have known I couldn't trust him. All that crap he told me about wanting to get hold of her notebook - he was looking for _her_, not a damned notebook! I stop suddenly, remembering.

"But there really _is_ a notebook," I say, half to myself. "In fact, I've got it." I reach into my pocket - _please let it be there_ - and draw out a small black book with a faded leather cover.

**Hermione**

Ron's eyes meet mine for an astonished second. "Don't you recognize my name?" I ask Nott, startled. Maybe he's never met Talitha in person, but surely he's heard of her?

Nott smirks. "Who is she, another one of your girlfriends?" he says to Ron. "Funny place for a date, don't you think?"

Honestly. "It isn't a date," I say coldly. "I - "

The door behind Nott opens. "What the hell," Montague says, sounding annoyed. "I told you to - oh, it's you, Zabini." He and Warrington, standing side by side, completely fill the doorway. I'd forgotten they were both so… large.

"He's brought his girlfriend," Nott says.

Montague's eyes narrow. "You work in Magical Creatures," he says, looking me over. "I've seen you with - " He breaks off to stare accusingly at Ron. "You bloody fool, Zabini! She's a friend of Granger's!"

"She's not," Ron says quickly. "She had to pretend to be - it was part of her assignment."

"That's right," I say. I manage to bring myself to smile at Montague. "And I won't say I enjoyed having to associate with the little Mudblood, but it supplied us with vital information about Potter."

Warrington and Montague exchange a glance. Montague looks half-convinced, but I'm not so sure about Warrington. "Who else knows you?" he asks me.

I think quickly. "Evelinda Snodgrass," I offer. _She ought to - she helped Talitha kidnap me._

"Evelinda's been captured," Nott says. "Who else?"

I look helplessly at Ron. "Rodolphus Lestrange knows her," he says.

Montague snorts. "Nice try," he informs us. "Lestrange was killed in the Battle of Hogwarts - everyone knows that."

"That's what you think," Ron says. "He's been alive all along, working with us. He and Talitha are the ones who came up with the whole plan."

"Then why hasn't anyone heard of her?" Nott demands triumphantly.

Warrington's frowning. "You say Lestrange is alive?" he asks. "Can you prove it?"

I try to think what Talitha would say. "There's no need for us to prove it," I say, raising my chin and giving him my best haughty look. "He'll be here himself before long."

"Right," Warrington says with a sneer. "Well, while we're waiting for him to come back from the dead, supposing you find someone else who can prove you're who you say you are."

"Someone alive," Montague qualifies.

I look helplessly at Ron again. "Who else works at the Ministry?" he whispers.

"Adrian Pucey," I say in desperation. I'm not positive he knows Talitha, but surely he's higher in the ranks than this lot. He must know something.

Warrington smiles in satisfaction. "Pucey's downstairs guarding the prisoners," he says. "Supposing you go along and fetch him for us, Zabini."

Ron looks confused. "What do you mean, guarding the prisoners?" he asks. "Isn't the whole point to help them escape?"

"The ones we took, idiot," Montague says harshly. "We've already got the Warden and his secretary."

Oh dear. Well, at least it doesn't sound as though they've captured any Aurors. "Right," Ron says hastily. He reaches for my hand. "Come on, Talitha."

"Oh, no you don't!" Warrington says. "She's staying right here."

"Like hell she is," Ron says at once.

The three of them raise their wands threateningly. "And give her a chance to escape?" Montague says. "I don't think so."

"Why would I escape?" I ask, trying to sound like I'm not absolutely terrified. "I'm here to help you."

"Then you can prove it by staying here," Nott says. "If you're really on our side, that is."

I look at Ron. "Go ahead," I tell him. "I'll be fine."

"I'm not leaving you alone with this lot," Ron says stubbornly.

Honestly. He's going to blow the whole thing for us. "Blaise, go!" I say sternly. "The sooner you find Adrian Pucey, the sooner we can take control of this mess. These three have done absolutely nothing so far, as near as I can tell." I look disparagingly at the three men clustered by the door.

Nott shuffles his feet, looking at the floor. Montague and Warrington look at each other again, then away. "Go on," I say to Ron again. I stare into his eyes, willing him to listen.

Ron turns me so his back is to the rest of them. "Take this," he whispers, pressing something into my hand.

It's the mirror. "No," I object. "What if something happens to you?"

"Take it," Ron says again. He wraps my hand around the mirror. "I'll be as quick as I can." He turns to the others. "If anything happens to her, you're all dead men," he says. His voice is low and threatening. It doesn't sound a bit like anything Blaise Zabini would say, but fortunately no one seems to notice.

"Relax, Blaise," Warrington says. "Your girlfriend's going to be just fine." He turns to me. "We'll wait in here," he says, indicating the Warden's office.

I smile at Ron and follow him through the doorway.

**Ron**

The prisoners' cells are beyond the area where the riot's going on, but I take a chance and Apparate straight there. I don't want to leave Hermione alone with those three for a second longer than I have to.

Now I know what that guard in the kitchen meant. The walls are narrow and it feels damp down here, but it's worse than that. I can't explain the way it feels - just that I don't like it.

"Who's there?" a voice calls sharply. "Identify yourself!"

_Please be Pucey._ "Is that you, Adrian?" I say. "It's Blaise Zabini."

"Blaise?" Pucey sounds startled. "I thought you were long gone."

"I've come back," I say lamely.

"Prove you're Blaise Zabini," Pucey says suspiciously.

_How?_ "Er, I've had more stepfathers than anyone in our year in Slytherin," I offer.

Pucey snorts. "Everyone knows that," he says. "Try again."

"I've had more girlfriends, too," I say. "You might know my latest one - she's been working undercover in the House-Elf Relocation Office."

"It _is_ you," Pucey says, relieved. "Where the hell is Miranda? It's been an absolute nightmare here."

That's funny - he called her Miranda. Maybe she didn't tell anyone at the Ministry what her real name is. "She's upstairs, trying to convince Warrington, Nott, and Montague that she's really on our side," I say. "Those gits think she's actually a good friend of Granger's."

Pucey laughs. "Well, we didn't recruit them for their brains," he says.

"Or for their courage," I say. "They're hiding out in the Warden's Office."

"So that's where they disappeared to," Pucey says, sounding annoyed. "I'll soon put a stop to that."

I hear footsteps and soon he comes into view. "We've got the Warden and his secretary locked up back there," he informs me, nodding back over his shoulder. "They aren't giving us any trouble - at least, not anymore - but someone has to be here to help if we capture anyone else."

I'm not sure I like the way he said that. I wonder what he's done to stop them from making trouble. "They'll be all right for a few minutes, won't they?" I say. "Miranda really needs someone to vouch for her."

"I'll go," Pucey says. "But you're going to need to stay here."

I hadn't planned on that. "Miranda - " I start.

"Miranda's a far better fighter than you are," Pucey says bluntly. "I'll be back in a minute."

With that, he's gone. I try not to take offense at his last remark - after all, Zabini's probably a lousy fighter. Anyway, it's not like I'm actually going to stay here. I give him a few minutes head start and then look cautiously around the corner.

A low moan comes from one of the cells. I hesitate, but I can't just leave them locked up for Pucey to torture. It won't take a minute to let them out, and then I can get back to Hermione. I turn back in the direction of the cells. "Warden?" I call softly. "Are you all right?"

Someone stirs in the back corner of the first cell, and I light my wand, trying to see in. "Warden?" I say again. I unlock the cell door and step inside. The man in the corner moans again, trying to raise his head.

I don't know if he's the Warden or the secretary, but he looks to be in rough shape. "Maybe you'd better lie down," I say, leaning over him.

And if I'd thought to do a bloody Supersensory Charm, I probably could have stopped what happened next. _"Expelliarmus!"_ someone says, and I feel my wand go flying out of my hand.

I make a grab for it, but it's too late. "And who have we here?" a familiar voice says. "Young Mr. Zabini, if I'm not mistaken."

_Oh no. Please don't be who I think you are._ I turn slowly - and of course it is. "Nothing to say?" Robards asks softly.

The light from his wand hovers searchingly over my face. I keep my eyes on the floor. Robards is a really good Legilimens, and I don't want him reading my mind. I have a feeling Ron Weasley would be in a lot more trouble with him right now than Blaise Zabini would.

The man in the corner tries to sit up again. "Warden!" Robards says. "What happened?"

"Stunned me," the Warden croaks. "I'm all right - I think."

"Of course you are," Robards says encouragingly. "Can you manage to stand? Excellent… now just step out into the corridor, if you please. I believe I'll be needing this cell."

The Warden manages to stagger past us. Robards turns his attention back to me. "Well, Mr. Zabini, I'm afraid we'll be leaving you here," he says coldly. "But I can assure you that you'll soon have plenty of company."

What? He can't leave me locked up here - not when Hermione's on her own upstairs! The hell with my job - I've got to tell him the truth. "You've made a mistake," I say frantically. "I'm not Blaise Zabini."

Robards raises his wand. "There's been no mistake," he says, and then everything goes dark.

**Harry**

Hearts pounding, Ginny and I race through the corridor and up the stairs. A Death Eater gives half-hearted chase, but since he can't see anyone, he soon gives up. "In here!" I gasp, pulling Ginny into a room near the top of the stairs.

"Now what?" Ginny asks, once she catches her breath.

"Dunno," I admit. I pull out the mirror and look into it hopefully, but all I see is my own reflection. "Ron was supposed to let me know once they'd made contact with Talitha's lot. I don't dare try to get in touch with him - I could blow his cover."

Ginny looks around. "Where are we?" she asks.

I look, too. I've been in here before. "It's where they bring prisoners to question them," I tell her. "I was here with Robards."

"If this is where they question them, I don't even want to know what the cells are like," Ginny remarks, looking around. "You'd think they'd get rid of the moss on the walls, at least. Look, it's even growing on that rope thing, whatever it is." She looks suddenly ill. "Harry, they don't - they don't hang people in here, do they?"

"Of course not," I say, putting a reassuring arm around her. "Wizards don't hang people - you know that, Ginny."

"Not now, maybe," Ginny says. "But I'll bet they did hundreds of years ago - and that rope looks old enough to have been around that long."

"That rope goes to the bell they use to summon the guards," I tell her. "Robards pulled it when I was here with him."

"Oh," Ginny says, relieved. Her expression turns thoughtful. "Is it really loud? Can they can hear it all through the castle?"

I stare at her. "What are you thinking?"

Ginny gives me the innocent look again. "Nothing much," she says. "Only it'd take us a long time to check every room in this castle, wouldn't it? And I expect everyone might come running if they heard the bell…"

I give her a quick kiss. "You know, you'd make a pretty good Auror," I tell her.

"Not me," Ginny says at once. "I just want to play Quidditch." She nudges my arm. "Go on, Harry - you do the honors."

I reach for the rope and give it a good tug.

**Draco**

"They'll have followed the others to Azkaban," I say, still thinking aloud. "Only I can't get out there - not without a boat. It's set up so no one can Apparate in or out."

Kreacher looks superior. "No _wizards_, perhaps," he says.

I stare at him. "Can you take me there?"

Kreacher ignores me, turning to the other elf. "Winky must go and find Master Aberforth," he instructs.

Winky? Why does that name sound familiar? But the other elf nods and Disapparates before I can ask. Kreacher holds out an arm. "Come, son of the Malfoys," he says to me.

I place my hand on his arm.

**Ron**

I can't have been unconscious for more than a few minutes, but Robards is long gone by the time I come round. I struggle to my feet and rattle the bars hopefully, but of course the cell's locked. And without a wand…. I reach into my pocket for the mirror before remembering I gave it to Hermione. Hermione! I have to get out of here now.

"Help!" I yell, kicking the bars to make more noise. "Can anyone hear me?"

"They can hear you all the way to London," a voice says. "Bloody shut up, can't you?"

"Perdita?" I say in disbelief. "Perdita, is that you?"

I hear footsteps, and then a familiar blonde head appears from around the corner. "How the hell do you know my name, Zabini?" Perdita asks coldly. "Been studying up on the Aurors, have you?"

"Perdita, it's me, Ron!" I say desperately. "I'm not Zabini - I've taken Polyjuice Potion."

Perdita eyes me skeptically. "Polyjuice, is it?" she says. "Well, in that case, all we have to do is wait for it to wear off."

There's not time for that. "I took an extra-strong dose," I tell her. "Listen, I'll prove it's me. My name is Ron Weasley, and I'm your trainee in the Auror Department. Or I was, anyway - I'm sort of suspended right now."

"Those are all things anyone might know," Perdita says, unimpressed.

I try to think. "You and I tracked down the Cattermoles together," I say. "We found them selling vegetables in a Muggle village. And you're engaged to Marvin, only you might not have a wedding because you don't talk to your family. And - and Hermione and I were going to invite you to ours but we sort of already had it. Only my mum might make us do it over, so if she does you can come to that one. And - "

"You're married?" Perdita asks, startled. "You and Hermione? When did _that_ happen?"

"Yesterday - I think," I say. "The days are sort of running together. Perdita, you believe me now, don't you? I have to get out of here - Hermione's all on her own with a bunch of Death Eaters!"

Perdita leans in so she can see my face. "What's Hermione doing here?" she asks sharply.

"She's sort of disguised as Talitha," I admit. "We captured the real Talitha - she's in Harry's cellar. Oh, and we got Lestrange, too."

Perdita flicks her wand at the cell door, unlocking it. "Come out of there, you bloody fool!" she says crossly. "Why didn't you tell Gawain any of this?"

"I tried," I say defensively. "It's a bit hard to talk when you're unconscious."

Perdita hands me my wand. "Take me to the last place you left Hermione," she says urgently. "Ron, how could you let her do this? She isn't a trained Auror - she won't know what to do."

"None of us were trained last year, and we managed all right," I remind her. "Anyway, if you think I could've talked her out of it, you don't know Hermione. I was lucky she even let me come along with her."

Perdita sighs and then hugs me suddenly. "I'm rather glad to see you, all the same," she admits. "Come on, you can fill me in while we're walking."

**Hermione**

I'm not exactly thrilled to be left on my own with these three, but fortunately they seem inclined to ignore me. Montague and Warrington huddle in a corner, talking in whispers, while Nott eyes me sullenly from the depths of a sofa.

I recognize Adrian Pucey by sight when he bursts in - and luckily, he recognizes me, too. "Thought you'd never get here," he says, looking relieved to see me. "It's all gone wrong since you disappeared. Simon and his sister came up with some half-baked plan to attack at Weasley and Granger's wedding reception, and we lost some of our best people. Oh, and we lost young Goyle, too. Then they all decided to come here, even though I tried to make everyone wait for orders like we were supposed to."

"You can't have tried very hard," I say coldly. "I notice you've joined them."

Adrian flushes. "What else was I supposed to do?" he demands. "Nobody could find you - we thought you'd been captured."

"I was," I say. "I escaped." I forestall the inevitable questions by holding up a hand. "It's a long story," I say hastily. "I'll tell you later." I glance meaningfully at the other three, all of whom are watching open-mouthed.

Adrian looks over, too. "What are you three gits doing in here?" he barks. "I told you to guard the entrances."

"Blaise and I just walked right in the front door," I put in, smiling evilly at Montague. "No one even tried to stop us."

"We _did_ stop you," Montague argues. "You're in here, aren't you?"

"Because we deliberately lured you into the corridor!" I point out. Montague looks away hurriedly. "And now you've delayed me with your idiocy."

Adrian glares at them. "We didn't know who she was," Warrington whines. "She might've been a spy."

"She's not," Adrian says shortly. "You three are to answer to her, is that clear?"

They nod, looking cowed. "Do as you were told and guard the entrances," I say. "Montague, you take the south one. Warrington, you go to the west side. And Nott, you take the front." If I remember correctly, that's Michael and Ernie, Dean and Luna, and George and Charlie. They shouldn't have any trouble disposing of these three idiots.

Montague, Warrington and Nott file out of the room, nearly tripping over each other in their haste to be gone. "Where's Blaise?" I ask, turning back to Adrian.

He moves forward, taking my hands in his. "He's not going to walk in on us, if that's what you're worried about," he says, drawing me close. Much _too_ close, as a matter of fact. Honestly - what else did Talitha get up to?

Adrian appears to be moving in for a kiss. "There's no time for that now!" I say quickly, freeing myself. "Have you seen Rodolphus?" He hasn't, of course, since Rodolphus isn't here, but Talitha wouldn't know that.

"Who?" Adrian answers, looking puzzled.

"Never mind," I say quickly. "Gather everyone together. I need to speak to them."

Adrian nods like he's used to taking orders from me. "Where do you want them?" he asks. "In here?"

"No," I say. "Bring them all down to the prisoners' cells." I might just as well get them where I mean them to end up.

Adrian gives me a startled look. "Why there?" he asks.

I think quickly. "Because I want to question the Warden," I say.

"Question him about what?" Adrian asks blankly. "He's of no use to us." He throws me a suspicious look. "Are you sure you're quite all right, Miranda? You're acting rather strange. Not like yourself at all."

Because I wouldn't kiss him, I suppose. He's just going to have to get over it - there are some lines I simply can't bring myself to cross. "Just do it," I say coldly.

Adrian looks me over thoughtfully. "Not a bit like yourself," he repeats, his voice heavy with meaning. "I suppose it _is_ really you, Miranda?"

"Who else would it be?" I say calmly, but my heart's beating rather fast.

Adrian moves deliberately closer to me. "Prove it," he says, his voice soft but dangerous. He runs a hand slowly through my hair. "What's happened to your hair, Miranda?"

He must be looking at the spot where Kreacher pulled the hair out. Why, _why_ didn't I think to wear a hat or something? "How should I know?" I say impatiently. "It must have happened while I was escaping."

"Right," Adrian says. "Remind me - just who were you escaping from?"

"Potter," I say. "He had me trapped in the Shack, but I managed to get out." There - that ought to distract him from my hair. If only he doesn't put two and two together and start suspecting Polyjuice…

Adrian, however, appears to have other things on his mind. "I'm glad you did," he says, still in the same soft voice. "I'd have missed you terribly." He brings his face closer to mine.

I sidestep neatly before he can complete the move.

"Gone off me, have you?" Adrian says. The words are light, but I can tell he's angry. "Don't tell me it's because of Zabini. He'll never be any good to you - he's a weakling. I was surprised he even showed up here tonight." He moves toward me again and I hastily back up until I feel the wall behind me.

I don't think I can bring myself to kiss him, even if it jeopardizes our whole plan. I wonder if Aurors ever have to do this sort of thing - if Ron ever kisses someone else, I'll absolutely kill him, Auror or not. "Don't be ridiculous," I say sharply. "Of course I haven't gone off you. This just isn't a good time." I force myself to smile seductively at him. "Fetch the others so I can talk to them. Once I've got everything sorted, you and I can have a bit of private time." I can only hope Ron will have made it back up here by then - I can't think what he's doing.

"We're private right now," Adrian says. He plants one hand on the wall on either side of me, blocking my escape.

The sound of the bell reverberating through the castle startles both of us.

"_Now_ see what you've done!" I say idiotically. Adrian looks confused, and I take advantage of his preoccupation to slip out of the room.

In my haste I nearly go crashing into the man just outside the door. "Miranda," he says, grabbing my arm. "How did you get up here so fast?"

It's Simon Parkinson. Horrible man - I wish he wouldn't touch me. "I've been here for a while now," I say briefly. I can only hope Talitha hasn't been having it off with _him_, too - his touch is positively making me feel ill. And why are they all calling me Miranda, anyway? Didn't anyone know her real name?"

"You were still downstairs when I left," Simon persists.

Adrian, coming out of the Warden's Office, gives me a sharp look. "Downstairs?" he echoes.

Oh, no. _Come on, think, Hermione,_ I tell myself sternly. I take a deep breath and gamble. "I haven't been downstairs at all," I say to Simon, managing to look puzzled.

"Of course you were," Simon answers. "I spoke to you - I said - " He breaks off, staring at me.

"My hair!" I say, clutching at it. "That's what happened to it!"

Simon looks confused, but Adrian nods at once. "Polyjuice," he says knowingly. "There's an imposter here."

"Are you telling me that the woman I saw downstairs wasn't you?" Simon demands. "But then who - "

"One of Potter's lot, I expect," I say. "Don't just stand there - go and catch her!"

Adrian and Simon look at each other. "How do we know _she's_ the imposter?" Adrian says suspiciously. "Supposing it's you. That would explain - er - that would explain a few things."

I think fast. "Does she have one of these?" I ask, lifting the Time Turner from around my neck.

"Where'd you get that?" Simon asks.

"From Flint's desk," I say, sticking more or less to the truth this time. "He has the others." I smile at him - Talitha's smile. "He wasn't about, so I helped myself. I know where he hides things."

Adrian and Simon look at each other again, but they seem to be falling for it. "That's why we have to get everyone together at once," I say, pushing my advantage. "We can all go back in time from here and then Apparate to Hogwarts. I want to finish this tonight."

"You can't Apparate from here," Adrian says at once. "You've got to use a boat."

"Then we'll use bloody boats!" I say crossly. "You two are wasting time - and meanwhile, there's an imposter wearing my face stirring up who knows what sort of trouble! Now, will you go and _get_ her?"

The two of them start to scurry off. Simon stops suddenly and turns to look at me. "That bell," he says. "Don't you think we ought to check it out?"

"_I'll_ check it out," I say imperiously. "Seeing as I have to do everything by myself." I glare at them. "What the hell are you waiting for? _Go!_"

I wait to make sure they've really gone before hurrying in the direction that the ringing came from. _Maybe it's Harry,_ I think hopefully. _He said Robards rang some sort of bell to summon the guard, didn't he? Or maybe it was Ron - maybe he couldn't get back to the Warden's Office and he's trying to find me._

The thought of Harry reminds me of something else. I look around quickly and then slip back into the Warden's Office, pulling the mirror from my pocket as I go.

**Ron**

We're nearly back to the Warden's office by the time I finish telling Perdita all about how Hermione and I got married at the Hog's Head, and how all the Death Eaters disguised themselves as us and attacked at our reception.

"And that's what gave Hermione the idea to take Polyjuice herself and be Talitha," I finish. "I didn't want to leave her alone with that lot in the Warden's office, but we couldn't think how to get out of it. Pucey was going straight up there."

"It's only been a few minutes," Perdita says, looking at her watch. "With a bit of luck, they might still be there."

"Can't we Apparate?" I say impatiently.

Perdita eyes me sternly. "What have I told you about that?" she asks.

"_Never Apparate directly into an unknown situation,_" I recite obediently. "But Hermione - "

"Hermione's not in any immediate danger as long as she's careful not to make Pucey suspicious," Perdita says. She sounds a lot different than she did a few minutes ago when she was yelling at me for letting Hermione come here at all. "Stop here for a minute - we need to plan our next steps."

I'm glad to see Perdita and all, but she's sort of slowing me down here. "Okay, how's this," I say. "I'll go into the Warden's office and think of some excuse for getting Hermione away from Pucey. You might see if you can find Harry, and - "

Perdita stares at me. "Harry's here, too?"

"Well, yeah," I say. "You didn't think he'd stay home, did you?"

"No, of course not," Perdita says, shaking her head. "I'm just surprised you didn't bring the whole family along."

"My sister Ginny's with Harry," I say, deciding I might just as well get it over with. "And we brought a few other people with us as well. They're not actually in the castle, though - we've got them guarding the entrances."

Perdita's mouth moves, but no sound comes out. "What other people?" she manages finally.

"Two of my brothers," I admit. "And Neville, and - oh, who the hell cares, Perdita! I need to find Hermione!"

"You need to calm down," Perdita says firmly. "A good Auror never lets his emotions get in the way."

"I _am_ calm," I argue. "Except when it's about Hermione." Perdita wasn't with us that night in Malfoy Manor. She can't ever understand how it is with me when it comes to Hermione.

Perdita sighs. "I'm glad Marvin's a Healer," she says. "All right, you might as well go on ahead and fetch Hermione, since I can see you aren't going to be of any use until you do. I'll wait just outside - there's a little alcove just outside the Warden's Office - "

"I know where it is," I interrupt. "Let's go."

Perdita eyes me. "After that," she says firmly, "we're going straight to Gawain and Kingsley and telling them everything."

_Goodbye, job in the Auror Department._ "Kingsley's all right, then?" I ask.

"Kingsley is, but we've lost a couple of people," Perdita says in a low voice. She looks upset, so I don't ask her anything else. I just walk even faster.

We're only a few hundred feet from the Warden's Office when we're nearly deafened by that bloody bell.

**Draco**

"Azkaban, sir," Kreacher announces.

"I'll take your word for it," I whisper back. "I can't see a bloody thing in this fog." But I know where we are. I can hear the sea - and the muffled cries of people fighting.

"The son of the Malfoys had best be careful," Kreacher warns. "Guards will be posted at the entrances."

I turn to stare at him in dismay. "How the hell am I supposed to get in, then?" I demand.

Kreacher sighs heavily. "Harry Potter would have no trouble," he remarks to a nearby rock. "But Kreacher's master is a very clever wizard. Other wizards" - he shoots me a disparaging look - "are not nearly as intelligent."

_Shut up, Kreacher._ I turn away from him, straining my eyes to see the castle. I can just make out a dark shape in the mist.

"There is another door that leads to the kitchens," Kreacher says from behind me. "It is often left unlocked when the prison workers are expecting a delivery."

"How do you know that?" I ask, startled.

Kreacher coughs. "The door is this way," he says, and heads quickly down the path.

I follow, stumbling a bit in the dark. I wonder if old Kreacher used to run messages back and forth when my Aunt Bellatrix was locked up in here. He was on our side in the old days, wasn't he?

Kreacher stops abruptly and I nearly trip over him. "The door, son of the Malfoys," he says, giving me an evil look.

Right. The door. I step forward, half-hoping it won't open. I reach out my hand -

"Identify yourself!" a voice calls sharply.

I nearly jump out of my skin, but then I realize who it is. "Oh, get over yourself, Longbottom," I say crossly. "Last time I looked, _you_ weren't an Auror."

Longbottom starts to answer, but his reply is lost in the sudden loud clanging of a bell. 

**Ron**

Perdita grabs my arm. "Someone's coming," she whispers. "Quick - over here!"

The two of us duck down behind some sort of stone thing. It's at least twelve feet high, and wide enough to hide both of us from view. I can't think what the hell it could be, but I'm glad it's here.

The footsteps are coming closer. I risk a quick look and see a lone man heading purposefully in the direction of the Warden's Office.

Simon Parkinson. He's no beauty, is he? But then again, neither is Pansy. There must be a pug dog somewhere far back in the Parkinson family tree. Or maybe not that far, come to think of it.

Simon strides past us without looking round. I immediately start to follow him, but Perdita pulls me back. "Not yet!" she whispers. "He may not be alone."

In any case, Simon isn't going far. A second later, I can hear him saying something to Hermione - and Hermione's answering. I start out again, and Perdita gives me a stern look. "Stay," she says firmly.

I stay, but if it sounds like Hermione needs help, I'm not planning to let Perdita stop me. She's doing all right, though. Only now Simon's saying something about seeing her downstairs - what the hell? I give Perdita a perplexed look, but she doesn't know we weren't downstairs so she doesn't get it.

Hermione does, though. In fact, she gets it a lot faster than I do. "Bloody hell," I whisper to Perdita. "Talitha's escaped."

_"What?_" Perdita says. "No, shut up - I want to listen."

There's a tricky bit there when it doesn't seem as though they believe her - and then somehow Hermione convinces them. I have to hold back a laugh when she tells them to go and they both scarper. She's used that voice on me a few times, and it has the same effect.

"Your girlfriend is absolutely brilliant," Perdita says, listening to the sound of Parkinson's and Pucey's footsteps hurrying away. "Your wife, I mean." She grins at me.

"I know," I say. "Can I go and get her now?" I don't wait for her answer before slipping out from behind the stone. I'm just in time to see Hermione turn back into the Warden's Office. Something in her hand catches the light for a minute. It must be the mirror - she's calling Harry, then.

I'm only a few steps away from the stone when I hear footsteps again. I wish they'd all bloody stay put for five minutes so I could get to Hermione. I duck back behind.

It's Sebastian Flint this time. I don't recognize any of the three people with him, but they've all got that Death Eater look about them. They rush past us without looking to either side.

"They're going to see what that bell was all about," Perdita says. "Hurry up and fetch Hermione. I'll wait here for you."

I rush to the Warden's Office and fling the door open - but the room is empty. "Hermione?" I say in a low voice. Maybe she's hiding.

It takes me a minute to notice the door in the opposite wall. She must have gone out the other way while we were waiting for bloody Flint to go by. I start through it, and then remember Perdita.

"What is this thing, anyway?" I ask, as she emerges from behind the stone. "There's writing on it, but the letters are so small I can't make them out."

"Look closely," Perdita says, lighting her wand.

I lean in. It's names - thousands of names - followed by dates that go back for at least a couple of centuries.

"It's a list of prisoners that have died in Azkaban," Perdita says, extinguishing her wand.

"Cheery little decoration, isn't it?" I say. "They're not all buried here, are they?" I seem to remember hearing something about someone (Barty Crouch's mum, maybe?) being buried outside the prison walls, but there wouldn't be room for all this lot.

"They used to bury them under the castle," Perdita says. "Then it got filled up, so they moved things outside."

I'm not normally the most sensitive person, but the thought's a bit disturbing. This place was grim enough already without knowing there were thousands of graves under our feet. "How can they be under the castle?" I ask, confused.

"There's another level below the prisoners' cells," Perdita explains. "It's a graveyard. Not many people know about it - I've never even seen it on a map of Azkaban."

I don't expect many people care to visit it, if it comes to that. I can't think of anything creepier than an underground prisoners' graveyard. "Where does that other door in the Warden's Office lead to?" I ask, getting back to the point. I wish I'd thought to hold on to the map, but Neville's got it.

Perdita frowns. "There's a corridor that leads to one of the interrogation rooms," she says. "I've been that way with Gawain." She looks thoughtful. "Do you know, I think I've seen a bell rope in there."

Hermione might have gone that way, then. "Maybe Harry rang the bell," I say hopefully.

"Maybe," Perdita says. "But judging by the others who seem to be on their way to it, I don't think it's a very healthy place for either of us at the moment."

"Not for you, maybe," I say. "I'm Blaise Zabini, remember? I'm one of them."

Perdita eyes me. "You seem to be forgetting something," she says. "If Talitha managed to escape, she probably had some help."

"Not from Zabini," I say at once. "He was afraid of her."

"Was he?" Perdita asks. "Who told you that?"

Bloody hell. "He did," I admit. "Do you think the real Zabini's here, then?"

Perdita shrugs. "He'd be better than the alternative," she says.

"Who's the alternative?" I ask, but I already know the answer. I even say it with her.

"Rodolphus Lestrange."

**Harry**

The bell's still echoing in my head when I hear a woman's voice calling from the mirror. It sounds like Talitha - it must be Hermione. I reach a hand into my pocket - and then pull it out again quickly as the door opens. Sebastian Flint bursts into the room, followed by two men and a woman. I don't recognize either of the men, but the woman seems somehow familiar.

"It definitely came from this room," Flint says, striding toward the bell rope. "Look, the rope's still swaying."

"Well, no one's here now," one of the men points out. He looks around. "There's nowhere for anyone to hide in here."

"Maybe someone pulled it and then ran away," the woman suggests. She pushes her cloak back as she speaks, and I get a better look at her face. I'm sure I've seen her at the Ministry.

"Why the hell would anyone do that?" the second man asks, clearly baffled, but Flint turns sharp eyes in the woman's direction.

"To get us all in one place, possibly," he suggests. "That was clever of you, Persephone."

The woman called Persephone looks rather pleased with herself. "Dealing with centaurs makes one think a few steps ahead," she says.

"Right," the first man says, grinning at her. "Have a lot of dealings with them, do you? Remind me again - how long has it been since Magorian's spoken to you?"

That's who she is - Persephone Burke from the Centaur Liaison Office. Her name was on that list. She flushes angrily and turns away, not answering.

Flint's ignoring all of them. "I don't see any of the Aurors here," he mutters. "It must have been one of them that rang that bell. It's a trap!" He glares at the others. "Back to your posts - immediately!"

"It wasn't an Auror," a clear voice says from the doorway.

I look over and see Talitha standing there. Well, Hermione, really, but she looks bloody convincing. She's wearing some sort of lacey thing over her hair - it looks rather like one of those little doilies that my Aunt Petunia was always putting over the backs of chairs, but I guess it must be some sort of hair ornament. I don't exactly keep up with that sort of thing.

"Simon and Adrian are gathering the others downstairs," Hermione's saying. "You'll all know what for, I expect?"

Flint looks thunderstruck. "Now?" he demands. "But we're in the middle of a battle!"

Hermione/Talitha shrugs. "So what?" she says. "We'll all just disappear. Let the rest of them carry on fighting. Maybe the Aurors will all kill each other." She laughs and the others laugh with her.

Flint's pulling something - a time-turner? - from around his neck. "We could go back from here," he says, half to himself.  
>"But the rest of it - " He breaks off and moves closer to Hermione, lowering his voice so that the others can't hear him. Ginny and I slip silently closer.<p>

"But we still don't have it," Flint's arguing. "Lestrange had it - I think - but I can't find him. I know he was arrested, but he wasn't in any of the cells."

"We don't need Lestrange," Hermione says. "I know where it is - and I know what to do with it."

Flint starts to speak again, but she motions him to silence. "Once we have everyone together downstairs, we'll go," she says, raising her voice. "You all know what to do?"

The others nod eagerly. "I can hardly wait," one of the men says, rubbing his hands together. "Promise you'll let me watch when you take out Potter?"

"You can all watch," Hermione tells them.

"It's a brilliant plan, Miranda," Persephone Burke says sycophantically. "I can't think how you managed all the details."

"Sometimes I felt as if there were two of me," Hermione says, rather strangely. "It feels that way _tonight_, as a matter of fact."

Did I imagine it, or was did she stress the word "tonight"? Ginny nudges me, and I realize I wasn't imagining anything. Hermione's trying to tell us something.

Ginny holds up two fingers and then points at Hermione. "No," I mouth, but of course she's right. Hermione's telling us Talitha's here - the real Talitha.

"When you say downstairs, you don't actually mean all the way down, do you?" Flint asks. He's got an odd expression on his face.

"Yes, of course," Hermione answers. She looks as confused by the question as I feel. "Sebastian, why don't you take this lot along. I'll wait here for the others."

"I think you'd better come with us," Flint says. He moves closer to her again and adds in a low voice, "There's something very odd going on. I don't want to say in front of the others, but - well, you'd better see for yourself."

"Oh," Hermione says nervously. "All right. I'll just go _downstairs_ with the rest of you, then." Again she raises her voice, stressing certain words. She obviously knows - or hopes, anyway - that we're here.

Ginny and I let them clear out before following as silently as possible. I hold Ginny back as she starts down the stairs. "We know where they're going," I whisper. "Hang on for a minute. We need to decide what we're going to do when we get there. And we need to find Ron."

Ginny looks worried. "He wouldn't have left Hermione voluntarily - at least, I don't think so," she says. "Maybe he's chasing down the real Talitha. That _is_ what Hermione was trying to tell us, wasn't it?"

"I think so," I say. "And I think Flint knows about it, too. Let's just hope she can act well enough to keep him and the others convinced she's the real one." I start to pull out the mirror, then stop as I realize Hermione's got the other one.

"Come on," I say to Ginny. "We can have a quick look for Ron, but then I think we'd better get downstairs. I'm not sure how long Hermione can keep this up."

Ginny slips her hand into mine as we start down the corridor. "What was with the antimacassar on her head?" she asks. "Is it some sort of Death Eater thing?"

I hold back a laugh. "Is that really what it was? I have no idea, but knowing Hermione, I'm sure there's a reason."

We see his shadow before we hear him. Ginny starts out from under the Cloak as he comes around the corner, but I manage to stop her just in time.

She gives me a startled look. "It's Ron!" she mouths.

It's not. I shake my head. Ginny looks from Zabini to me, still confused. In desperation, I swipe my hand through the rather plentiful dirt on the floor and brush it against the front of my shirt. I point to my shirt; then to Zabini - still dressed in the dirt-smeared robes he was wearing when we left him at the Hog's Head.

Zabini flattens himself against the wall; then cautiously lifts his head to peer around the corner. Looks like he's rather anxious not to be seen, doesn't it?

Ginny's eyes light up with a look I know well. "Let me try," she whispers.

I have no idea what she means, but I nod anyway. It's only Zabini - I can just Stun him if I need to.

"What are you doing here, Blaise?" Ginny says coldly. Her voice is a perfect imitation of Talitha's. It even startles me - and it nearly gives Zabini a heart attack.

"Talitha?" he whispers, looking around wildly. "Where are you?"

"Invisible, of course," Ginny says. Zabini looks in our direction, and she hastily pulls me against the opposite wall. "Why are you up here? I told you to stay downstairs."

"Far too many curses flying about," Zabini says languidly. "You ought to know me better than that by now."

"Fine," Ginny says dismissively. "Then you may as well help me."

"I've already helped you," Zabini says. "You'd still be in Potter's wine cellar if it weren't for me. And I must say, you don't seem to be terribly grateful."

"Of course I'm grateful," Ginny says, her voice softening. "But I need you to cooperate. We're going through with the plan - immediately."

Zabini looks unpleasantly surprised to hear this. "Now?" he asks. "Well, you won't want me for that, I expect. After all, I wasn't really involved in the Battle of Hogwarts. I'll just - "

"You'll be involved this time," Ginny says, her voice like steel. "You're either with us or against us, Blaise. Which is it?"

"With you, of course," Zabini says hastily. "What do you want me to do?"

"Go downstairs and find Flint," Ginny orders. "He'll give you the instructions. Your part is going to be very important, Blaise. We'll need to rely heavily on your dueling skills."

"Right," Zabini says, backing slowly away from the sound of her voice. "Flint, is it? I'll be off, then." He turns and hurries back down the corridor, almost running. There's no doubt in my mind that he's intending to get as far away from here as he possibly can.

I'm almost doubled over with trying not to laugh. Ginny grins at me. "That's sorted him," she remarks in her normal voice.

I stop laughing and look at her thoughtfully. "You know, that was a damned good imitation if you even fooled her boyfriend," I say. "Do you think you could keep it up if you had to?"

"What, sounding like Talitha?" Ginny asks. "Probably - if I need to. What did you have in mind?"

"I'm not quite sure," I admit. "Let me think on it for a bit."

**Draco**

"What's going on?" Hannah Abbott whispers nervously. "What was that bell?"

Longbottom shakes his head. "I think I'd better go and see," he decides. "Hannah, you wait here and keep watch while - "

"I will not!" Hannah says at once. "If you're going, I'm going too. Malfoy can keep watch." She throws me a defiant look. "If you're not afraid, that is," she adds.

I never liked her in school. "I'll go and find out," I say to Longbottom, ignoring her. "The Death Eaters won't hurt me, because they think I'm on their side. And the Aurors wouldn't do more than arrest me."

Longbottom eyes me suspiciously. "They _think_ you're on their side," he repeats. "Is that because you _are_?"

"No," I say, realizing once and for all that I'm not. "I don't want anyone else to get killed. I just want it all to be over."

"All right," Longbottom says after a minute.

"Neville, I don't - " Hannah starts nervously, but he interrupts her.

"It's all right, Hannah," he says. He turns to me. "There are a few things you ought to know."

"If one of them's that Granger's disguised as Talitha, I already figured it out," I say. "What _you_ ought to know is that the real Talitha escaped and she's probably already here. And Zabini might be with her - if he couldn't get out of it."

Longbottom's already round eyes get even wider with shock. "But Ron's being Zabini," he says.

"I can't think of a less likely person to play that role," I say. The thought of Weasley, with his shirt tail perpetually hanging out and the laces of his trainers dragging on the ground, trying to act the part of the elegant Blaise Zabini is almost laughable - if it weren't so bloody stupid. He won't fool anyone for a second.

Hannah Abbott glares at me. "They took Polyjuice," she points out. "It's not like they're just dressed up or something."

There's still acting involved, but I can't be bothered arguing with her. "They're probably both already here," I say again. "I don't know how many of the entrances you've got covered - "

"All of them," Longbottom says. "But if any of our lot had seen them - well, they'd probably have thought it was Ron and Hermione in disguise."

"We have to warn them," Hannah says. It's the first sensible thing she's come out with.

"Off you go, then, Malfoy," Longbottom says. "Hannah, you stay here - and mind you keep out of sight. I'll go round and tell the other sentries what's going on."

I turn to go. Hannah merely watches me with narrowed eyes, but Longbottom follows me as I move toward the door.

"If you betray Harry, I'll kill you myself," he says quietly.

Is this really Longbottom? I couldn't have been more astonished if I'd just received a death threat from my own mother. I know he supposedly acquitted himself rather well during the Battle - and he did kill that bloody awful snake - but still… _Longbottom_? The same git who fell off the broom the first time he tried to fly - the one who could never answer a question in class without stuttering - the one who -

The one who's looking me right in the eye without a trace of fear. I swallow hard. "I won't betray him," I manage.

It's almost a relief to get away from him and into Azkaban. I'll have to keep an eye out for the real Zabini and Talitha - they're the only ones who could give me away to the other Death Eaters. But I suppose the best thing to do first is to find Potter.

As it happens, however, I run into someone else first.

**Ron**

For the third time, Perdita and I start off in the direction of the bell - and wouldn't you know, someone else just has to come along.

"Aren't they all supposed to be fighting or something?" I whisper, annoyed. "If we'd known it was this easy, you and Robards could've just rung that bloody bell as soon as you got here and trapped them all in one room."

"Shh," Perdita warns, pulling me back behind the stone monument. "I only hear one set of footsteps. If this one's on his own, let's take him down."

Now that's more like it. I spring out as Perdita gives the signal, grabbing him by the throat and pinning his wand arm down at the same time. It's nicely done, if I do say so myself.

And completely wasted. "Oh, it's you, Malfoy," I say, disappointed. I can't think why he's here - he's only going to be in the way. Unless he came to help the Death Eaters, of course - then he's my prisoner, isn't he?

"Take your bloody hands off me, Weasley," Malfoy answers crossly. "I need to find Potter right away."

Perdita steps out from behind the stone, keeping her wand trained on Malfoy. "What's your business with Potter?" she asks sharply.

"And how did you know it was me?" I put in. I look down at myself anxiously to see if the Polyjuice is wearing off.

"Easy," Malfoy says, answering me first. "Blaise Zabini wouldn't be caught dead in clothes like that. Why didn't you at least wear a cloak?"

"Excellent idea," I say. "_Accio_ Malfoy's cloak!" It'd be too short for me, but it fits my Zabini-self well enough. I fasten it up and smirk at Malfoy.

He scowls back at me and turns to Perdita. "Zabini - the real one - helped Talitha escape from Potter's wine-cellar," he says. His tone is a hell of a lot more polite than the one he used to me. "We think they're both here in the castle."

"We knew about Talitha already," Perdita says, keeping her wand trained on him. "How did you know she was in the wine-cellar?"

"Because Zabini tricked us into bringing him there," Malfoy answers, not quite meeting her eyes. "Me and Kreacher… he stole a wand and set off some kind of explosion, and when we came round, he was gone. Kreacher brought me straight here so I could warn Potter."

There's a hell of a lot more to that story, if you ask me, but there's no point in trying to get it out of him now. "I think you'd better come along with us," Perdita says, taking a firm grip on Malfoy's arm. "As it happens, we're looking for Harry ourselves."

Malfoy sneers at me. "Where's your wife, Weasley?" he asks. "I didn't think you ever let her out of your sight."

"Shut up," I say briefly. I catch Perdita's eye. "Is this all right, then?" I whisper, pointing to the cloak. I try not to let Malfoy hear me, but I can tell he does by the way he rolls his eyes.

Perdita looks me over. "Tie your shoelaces," she advises. "And that was an excellent use of the grab-and-hold move, by the way."

I lead the way toward the bell room, feeling slightly cheered up. At least I managed to learn a few Auror tricks - even if I'm not going to get to be one for much longer.

We find the room with the bell - but it's empty. "Harry?" I whisper, but I can already tell no one's there.

"The best thing to do is find Gawain," Perdita says. She sees the expression on my face and adds, "It'll be all right, Ron. He won't say anything - not just now, anyway."

No, he'll save that for later. I don't care about Robards, though - I'm just worried he'll stop me from looking for Hermione. "You can bring Malfoy to see him if you like," I say. "I'm going to find Hermione first."

"If we don't tell the rest of the Aurors what she's doing, one of them could easily mistake her for the real Talitha," Perdita points out. "We stand a far better chance of finding her in time if we have Gawain's help."

The words "in time" are the ones that convince me. I let Perdita lead the way. I can't help being worried, even though Perdita does her best to cheer me up by poking Malfoy in the back with her wand every time he slows down a little.

Perdita pauses near a door on the stairwell. "There's an inside passageway that we can take up to the battlements," she says.

Only apparently she's not the only one that knows about it - because the door's already opening.

**Hermione**

I follow Sebastian Flint down a narrow flight of stairs, wondering frantically how I can get away from him. I can't risk it just now - he'd be on to me in a second.

Flint pauses on the landing, letting the others get ahead of us. "This way - quickly," he whispers, opening a half-hidden door on the stairwell. "The Aurors are up to something - I want to get a closer look."

I follow him, wondering. "Why, you can see the whole prison from here," I whisper, looking up. We're on a narrow sort of balcony that traverses the whole inside of the castle. Far below us I can see sparks and smoke from the battle still going on. And above us -

"That's Robards!" Flint whispers, as we catch sight of a man in black robes striding along the inside battlements. He must be nearly at the roof.

I look longingly after him for a moment, turning back just in time to see Flint point his wand at the rapidly disappearing figure. I grab his arm, deflecting the curse, which falls harmlessly to the floor below.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Flint snaps, glaring at me suspiciously. "I had a clear shot!"

He's got his wand pointing at me now. I look back at him calmly, even though my heart's pounding. "You most certainly did not," I say firmly. "He was much too far away. All you would have done is alert them to our position."

Flint looks back up at the now-empty battlements. "Hmm, maybe," he mutters. "But I still think I could have pulled it off."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Men always think they could have pulled it off," I say. "Usually they're wrong. You'll have plenty of time to settle with Robards later. Or perhaps I should say - earlier."

Flint's expression brightens. "He's mine, then," he says eagerly. "You won't let Lestrange have him?"

"He's yours," I promise. "Now, I think we'd better join the others." _Unless I can manage to Stun you before we get there…_

Flint starts through the door ahead of me. He's got horrible manners, but I won't complain since it's working in my favor. I point my wand at the back of his head - and Flint slumps to the floor before the curse has even formed in my mind.

Non-verbal spells are one thing, but I've certainly never managed a _non-cognitive_ spell before - if there even is such a thing. Somehow I don't think there is. I edge slowly backwards along the balcony, keeping my wand out.

"Hermione, come on out of there before you fall!" a voice says impatiently. "And what the hell have you got on your head? It looks like something out of Auntie Muriel's parlor!"

I start to answer, but Ron's already kissing me. I kiss him back, even though it feels strange to be kissing Blaise Zabini.

Ron lets me go finally. "That was definitely weird," he says, looking down at me.

"It was, wasn't it?" I say. "Maybe we shouldn't kiss anymore until we're back to our normal selves."

"In that case, I know where I can get you a year's supply of Polyjuice," a familiar voice says snidely.

Malfoy. "Why did you bring him?" I whisper to Ron.

"_I_ didn't bring him," Ron says indignantly. "He came with Kreacher. Zabini helped Talitha escape - but I reckon you know that already. Perdita and I heard you talking to Parkinson."

Perdita's here? I hurry back through the door, ignoring Malfoy. Perdita acknowledges me with a smile. "Nice work with Parkinson," she tells me, bending over Flint's prone body.

I fill them in on the rest - all except the bit about Adrian Pucey trying to kiss me. I don't think I need to mention that to Ron just now. Or possibly ever.

"Right," Perdita says when I've finished. "So you've got them all headed down to the cells - and at least two of them think Talitha's the imposter. Excellent work." She reaches down and lifts something from around Flint's neck. "Nine - no, ten time-turners. I'll just confiscate these on behalf on the Ministry."

Ron nudges Flint with his foot. "What'll we do with him?" he asks.

"You're the one who captured him, so that makes him your prisoner," Perdita answers. "What do _you_ want to do with him?"

Ron considers carefully. "Tie him up so he can't get away and then stuff him someplace out of sight," he decides. "We don't want any of his friends running across him - and I don't want to be bothered lugging him around all night."

Perdita nods approvingly. "I noticed a cupboard on the landing above this one," she says. "I think it would suit him nicely."

"Hey, Granger," Malfoy whispers as we watch Ron do a Locomotor Charm on a bound and gagged Flint. "What the hell's that supposed to be - a Muggle wedding veil?" He points to my head, smirking.

"I had to cover my hair to hide where Kreacher pulled it out for the Polyjuice," I snap, glaring at him. "There wasn't exactly much of a choice - it's not as though the Warden had any spare hair clips lying about in his office!"

Ron comes back down the stairs in time to hear the end of this. "Hang on," he says, rummaging in his pocket. "I think I've got - here you are!" He hands me the hair clip that I've been missing for a week.

"I was looking everywhere for this," I say accusingly. I must have asked Ron a dozen times if he'd seen it, and he said no.

He grins at me unrepentantly. "Here, I'll hold your doily," he offers, lifting the square of lace from my head.

"We'd better go and find Gawain," Perdita says, looking anxiously at her watch.

I know where Robards is - I'm not worried about him. "Couldn't we look for Harry first?" I ask. "I think it would be better if we all stayed together from now on."

Perdita considers. "All right," she says at last. "You thought he was in that room when you were talking to Flint and the others, Hermione? He most likely followed them to see where they were going."

"Downstairs," I say at once. I pause, thinking. "Flint said rather a strange thing when I told him where to go. He asked if I meant 'all the way' downstairs. I can't think what he meant, can you?"

"Oddly enough, I can," Perdita says, exchanging a glance with Ron. "Only I never particularly wanted to see it for myself."

Ron leans close to me. "We don't have to go looking for Harry," he whispers. "You've got the mirror."

Oh. Right. I look hesitantly at Malfoy. I'm still not quite sure whether or not I trust him. And while I don't think he'll be able to hear anything Harry says - well, there's always a chance, isn't there? "I'll be right back," I tell the others. I open the door and step back out onto the balcony.

**Harry**

We catch up to Persephone Burke and the two men just as they're descending the last flight of stairs into the dungeons - but there's no sign of Hermione or Flint. I don't like it - and I can tell by the uneasy look Ginny gives me that she doesn't like it, either.

I squeeze her hand reassuringly. There's nothing we can do now except follow this lot and make sure the real Talitha doesn't get to them before Hermione does.

It's easy to see that the battle's still going on - but something's different. I look again.

"Where'd they go?" Ginny whispers.

Persephone and her two friends have vanished - and they're not the only ones. I still see several Aurors, but they seem to be fighting prisoners - none of whom I recognize. They might be captured Death Eaters, of course - or they might just as easily be run-of-the-mill criminals looking for a chance to escape. I look around blankly - and then I spot a familiar face.

I nudge Ginny and point silently in his direction. She frowns. "Who is it?" she whispers.

"Avery," I whisper back. He's lost a lot of weight and grown a beard during his imprisonment, but I'd know him anywhere.

Oddly enough, Avery doesn't seem to be taking much part in the fighting. He lurks on the fringes of the battle, looking over his shoulder furtively. As we watch, he slips into a far corner of the room - and disappears.

Ginny looks up at me, wide-eyed. "He couldn't have Disapparated," she whispers. "I don't think he even had a wand."

I take a firm grip on her hand. "Stay close - and keep low to the ground," I tell her. Crouching down, we make our way carefully around the edge of the fight till we get to the spot where Avery vanished. I point triumphantly at a trap door, almost hidden under the layers of dirt on the floor.

Ginny looks at it dubiously. "Well, I suppose we've got to," she says, resigned.

"I'll go first," I say. I lift the door cautiously - just an inch - and peer through. I can see a flight of stone steps curving downward into the darkness. At least it's got stairs - I was wondering how we were going to manage the Cloak if we had to jump.

The steps seem to go on forever, and it's hard to see where we're going, even with both wands lighted. The air feels heavy and damp, with a dank, musty smell that grows stronger as we descend. At last I can see a dim, wavering light in the distance. "I hear voices," Ginny whispers.

Another voice startles me suddenly. "Harry, where are you?" it says.

I hastily back up a few steps and pull the mirror from my pocket. Talitha's face stares back at me from the glass. "Oh, thank goodness," she says. "Harry, where - " The face disappears for a minute.

"Sorry," Hermione whispers a moment later. "I dropped the mirror. Tell me where you are."

I hesitate. "Prove you're Hermione first," I say.

"Ask me a question," Hermione counters.

I try to think, but I've got so many things running through my mind that it's hard to come up with a good question. "What's your mum's first name?" I ask at random.

"Jean," she answers promptly. "The same as my second name. Now, where are you?"

"We're in the Warden's Office," I say. "We'll wait for you there." I stow the mirror back in my pocket without waiting for an answer.

Ginny's staring at me. "Was that Hermione?" she asks. "Why did you lie to her?"

"Because it wasn't Hermione," I answer. "It was Talitha."

**Draco**

Granger comes back, still fussing with her hair. You'd think she'd be happy to have straight hair for once instead of that mane she usually walks around with. "They're in the Warden's Office," she says, giving Weasley a rather odd look. "Let's go."

Weasley starts to reach for her hand, but stops himself. "Right," he says. "It's faster if we go back up the stairs from here, isn't it?"

Perdita's right behind Granger, but Weasley lets them get a few steps ahead. He catches my eye. "Stop here," he whispers.

Now what? He's already got my cloak - I'm not giving him anything else.

Both girls look back from the top of the stairs. "Be right along," Weasley calls to them. "It's my shoelace again." He leans down to tie it.

He's definitely not getting my shoes. "You know, there _is_ a charm for that," I can't resist pointing out. "Just because your wife's a Muggle-born doesn't mean you've got to act like one."

"Shut up," Weasley whispers harshly. "That's not my wife."

"What?" I stare at him. Mind, I'd regret marrying her too, but he did it in front of witnesses and everything. There's no backing out of it now.

"Look at her hand," Weasley says. "Her left hand."

I peer up the stairs. It's pretty easy to see Granger's left hand, because she's drumming her fingers impatiently on the stair railing. "What about it?" I say. "I don't see anything."

"Exactly," Weasley says. "Now look at mine."

I look down… at his wedding ring. "So what?" I say. "Maybe she took hers off as part of the disguise."

"You can't take them off," Weasley says. "And anyway, she didn't. She had it on when we found her - and she wasn't wearing it when she came back from the balcony." He glances warily up the stairs. "I'm going back out on that balcony to check."

"How long does it take you to tie a shoe?" Granger (or quite possibly, _not_ Granger) calls sharply. "I learned how when I was four!"

Weasley gives me a meaningful look, although why he thinks that should prove she's not his wife is beyond me. I'd have said the same thing to him myself - only not so politely. Anyway, now she's coming toward us.

"Come on," she says, gripping Weasley tightly by the hand and half-dragging him up the stairs.

Weasley gives me another look - a desperate one this time. Here we go again. Why I let myself become involved in any of this is beyond me. I've never been so sick of a group of people in my life. I take a deep breath.

"You've insulted me for the last time, Weasley!" I say loudly. "I'm done with you and Potter! You can just sort this mess out by yourselves - I'm going!"

The two girls look astonished, but Weasley nods at me almost imperceptibly. "Go, then!" he yells back. "We don't need your help!"

I turn and plunge down the rest of the stairs before anyone can stop me. I can hear Perdita calling after me, and Weasley telling her to let me go. He obviously wins the argument, because after a few minutes I hear them all starting up the stairs again.

I make my way cautiously back to the landing and stop, looking around. This is where we were all standing, and that's the door Granger went through…

And that's where Talitha left her, unconscious - or dead. She looks awfully pale. No, she's breathing. Pity. I pull out my wand with a sigh.

_"Ennervate,"_ I say. "And if you start in screeching at me straight off, I swear I'll Stun you again."

**Ron**

I can only hope Malfoy believed me, and that he's going back to the balcony to look for Hermione. She's got to be there - Talitha wouldn't have had time to do anything else to her.

_Unless she threw her off the balcony,_ my mind suggests. I feel sick at the thought. She couldn't have - we would've heard her scream. Anyway, Talitha wouldn't kill Hermione - not yet, anyway. She still wants something from her - she can't manage that charm without help…

"Why are you stopping?" Talitha demands, tugging at my hand. "We need to hurry!"

I hate having her touch me, but it'd be dead obvious if I pulled my hand away. I let her pull me along faster. Perdita, on my other side, gives me a worried look. She knows something's wrong, but she doesn't know what. She probably thinks I'm upset about Malfoy taking off.

"I still think we should have gone after him," Perdita says, proving my theory. "He can't get off this island by himself, and he's bound to run into trouble."

"He'll be fine," I say roughly. "The Death Eaters all think he's one of them - and I agree with them." I said that mostly for Talitha's benefit - no point in letting her know Malfoy's on our side. At least, I hope he is.

Perdita gives me another worried look, but says nothing - probably because we're back at the Warden's Office.

And somehow, I'm not at all surprised when we find it empty.

**Hermione**

"How did you know?" I gasp, looking up into Malfoy's rather irritated-looking face.

"Weasley knew right off," he tells me. "Come on, we'd better catch up to them so we can finish her off."

He doesn't offer to help me up - not that I would have accepted. I get to my feet, rather shakily, and brush myself off. My hair's all over the place again - bloody Talitha must have stolen my hair clip.

Malfoy looks at me oddly. "The Polyjuice must be wearing off," he remarks. "It looks more like your normal hair now - not that there's anything particularly _normal_ about it." He gives a sharp, amused snort.

I ignore him and reach into my pocket for the flask - but it's gone, and so is the mirror. My despair drives me to call Talitha a few of Ron's favorite words - words I previously reserved for Damaris.

Malfoy looks even more amused. "I didn't know you could swear, Granger," he remarks. "I didn't think there were enough syllables in those words to suit you."

"It's Mrs. Weasley to you!" I snap. "Is it really wearing off?"

Malfoy looks me over. "Yeah," he says. "Maybe we'd better get going. They should be in the Warden's Office - that's where Talitha said Potter was." He looks at me again. "Maybe we'd better Apparate. If we run into somebody now, they're not exactly going to believe you're Talitha."

"I can't Apparate," I say wearily. "She took my wand, too."

Malfoy holds out a grudging arm, and I take a pinch of his sleeve between two fingers. "Be sure to take us to someplace hidden - " I start, but we're already going.

Much to my surprise, he's listened to me - or perhaps he'd thought of it already. We end up behind a large stone slab that I'd noticed before, just outside the Warden's Office. The door is open, and I strain to hear the voices.

The hallway appears to be empty. "Come on," I whisper to Malfoy, slipping out from behind the stone. I stop just outside the doorway and peer cautiously inside. Ron's Polyjuice is wearing off, too - he looks like himself again.

"Well, he's obviously not here now," Perdita's saying. "Maybe you'd better try calling him again, Hermione."

"I'll call him," Ron says firmly. He reaches familiarly into Talitha's pocket for the mirror. She shrinks back a bit - but it would look odd if she stopped him, wouldn't it?

Ron lifts the mirror to speak into it - and Talitha Disapparates. Just like that, she's gone.

"What in the world - " Perdita begins, but I can't wait any longer. I run into the room and fling myself into Ron's arms.

I can hear Perdita still asking questions - but Malfoy's just going to have to answer them by himself. Ron and I are a bit preoccupied at the moment.

**Harry**

"But how did you know?" Ginny asks.

"Because Hermione's mum is called Helen," I explain. "She told us ages ago, when Ron asked her if her parents made up her name or if it was a real one."

"That sounds like Ron," Ginny says. "Even I knew it was a real name. But I don't get the connection - unless it's because they both begin with an H."

"That's what I thought, too," I admit. "But it's because Helen of Troy's daughter was called Hermione." It's the sort of obscure literary reference that only the Grangers would come up with, but Hermione seemed to think it was quite clever.

"Right," Ginny says politely. "Well, Jean was a pretty good guess." She gives me an anxious look. "Harry, do you think she's just got the mirror - or has she got Hermione, too? And which of them was the one we saw upstairs?"

I take my glasses off and rub my eyes. "It was Hermione upstairs - I think," I say. "And as far as the mirror goes, I - "

Just as I'm saying this, the mirror itself speaks. Ron, this time - and it sounds like him, not Blaise Zabini.

It looks like him, too - the Polyjuice must have worn off. Assuming it _is_ Ron, of course. "What was the score in the last Cannons match?" I ask, before he has a chance to speak.

"They lost, two-hundred and fifty to twenty," Ron says with a groan. "Did you have to remind me? It's all right, Harry - Talitha got the mirror for a bit, but Malfoy found Hermione for us, and - "

"Ask Hermione what her mum's name is," I interrupt.

Ron looks puzzled, but turns away for a second. "Helen," he says. "Only I knew that already, so you can ask her something else if you like."

"No, it's all right," I say. "What happened to Talitha?"

"Disapparated," Ron says with another groan. "But we think we know what this 'downstairs' place is that they all keep talking about. Only we don't know how to get there. Perdita says the stairs end on the floor that's got the dungeon."

"Perdita's with you?" I say, relieved. "Excellent. You can tell her there are more stairs - lots of them - under a trap door in the corner of the room where the fight's taking place. Ginny and I are nearly at the bottom now."

"Do you know what's down there?" Ron asks. He's got an odd look on his face.

"We were about to go find out," I say. "We think the rest of the Death Eaters are there already - waiting for Talitha, probably."

Ron holds another brief conference with someone at his end. "Perdita says to stay where you are," he reports, coming back. "She's going to get Robards and Kingsley and the other Aurors together. Hermione and I will come and meet you and Ginny and - hang on." He disappears again.

I'll bet anything Perdita's telling him he has to wait for her and Robards. "You won't be able to get through without being spotted," I say to my own reflection, since Ron's not listening.

Ron returns a few minutes later, looking triumphant. "We'll be right there," he says. "Don't move!" The mirror goes dark before I have a chance to say "leave Malfoy with Perdita."

I lean up against the wall, pulling Ginny close to me. "They're on their way," I tell her. "Everything's going to be all right." I can only hope I'm telling her the truth.

"I hope they hurry," Ginny says, leaning against me rather heavily. "I don't like the air down here - it almost feels like I can't breathe."

I look down at her anxiously, lighting my wand so I can see her properly. Her face is paler than normal, and her eyes are closed. "Ginny?" I say sharply.

"Mmm," Ginny says, sounding sleepy.

I Conjure a candle and light it with a quick Incendiary Charm. The flame flickers briefly and then goes out. Oh hell, Ginny's right - the air's bad. I've got to get her out of here.

_"Ginny!"_ I say again. There's no response. She slumps against me, unconscious.

I scoop Ginny up in my arms and look around frantically. There's got to be a door or something down here. I'll never be able to carry her up those stairs in time. I feel a bit light-headed myself. I force myself to breathe slowly.

I could Apparate us out, of course, but we don't know who's where at this point - Apparating could be more dangerous than staying here. Still, it's a chance I've got to take.

I start to turn in preparation - and then I remember. There's a variation on the Four-Point Charm - I saw Robards do it once. If only it works…

I hold my wand loosely and concentrate on finding a way out. The wand points immediately, almost impatiently, toward the stairs.

"Isn't there another way?" I whisper. The wand hesitates, then points again at the stairs.

"Thanks, anyway," I whisper. Apparating it is, then.

The wand jerks in my hand sharply. It obviously wants me to take the stairs. Maybe it thinks I need the exercise. "No!" I tell it, and then I see it. There's a small door, about half the height of a normal one, on the side of the staircase, not three feet from where Ginny and I were standing.

_"Alohomora,"_ I say hoarsely. _Please lead to the outside…_

The door opens slowly. There's darkness beyond it, but I can smell the fresh sea air and hear the crashing of the waves against the rocks. Holding Ginny tightly, I crouch down and hurry through the opening. 


	28. Chapter 28

**Hermione**

"I still don't like this," Perdita says unhappily. "I ought to order you to come with me."

"You and I both know Robards is going to give me the sack as soon as he sees me," Ron tells her. "So there's no point in you giving me orders, is there? I don't work for the Aurors anymore."

Perdita looks even more unhappy. "I've been trying to talk him out of it," she says. "But you're not exactly helping yourself by insisting on going ahead alone - particularly with a civilian."

Ron puts his arm around me. "My civilian and I will be just fine," he says. "Go on, Perdita."

"You can't go through that room without being trapped in the middle of the battle," Perdita insists. "People have been killed already, Ron. Don't be an idiot."

"There's got to be another way in," Ron says stubbornly. "We'll find it."

"Neville's got a map," I interject. "I think we ought to look for him first."

"If it's the place I think it is, you won't find it on any map," Perdita answers. "The Warden ought to know how to get there - and he's with Gawain. So the only sensible thing - "

"Robards is going to keep us out of it if he can," Ron answers. "And I'm not leaving Harry on his own down there. We'll have a look at Neville's map. Go on, Perdita - you're wasting time."

Malfoy's been hovering near the door, but now he moves closer to Perdita. "I'm coming with you," he states firmly. "I've had enough of this." He glares at Ron. "And you might let me have my cloak now, seeing as it obviously doesn't fit you anymore."

Ron looks down at the cloak, which now ends somewhere between his knees and ankles. "It's a bit on the short side," he admits, pulling it off and tossing it to Malfoy. "There you are. And - Malfoy?"

"Well?" Malfoy says, hastily fastening his cloak as if he suspects Ron's going to ask for it back.

"Thanks for rescuing Hermione," Ron says, hugging me against his side. "I was going to disarm Talitha and rescue her myself, but - anyway, I didn't have to because you saved her." He offers his other hand to Malfoy.

Malfoy stares at it suspiciously for a moment before accepting it. "This doesn't mean I like you two," he warns.

"It's all right," Ron says. "We don't like you, either."

"Ron!" I whisper reproachfully. I look at Malfoy. "Thank you," I say simply. I want to add that I'm sorry about Clarissa, but I'm not sure how he'll take it.

Malfoy turns away before I can say anything more. "Let's go," he says to Perdita.

She hugs both of us. "Be careful," she whispers. "And mind you stay put when you get there. We'll be along just behind you."

Malfoy follows her to the door, then turns back suddenly. "Weasley," he whispers. "Catch!" Ron puts up his hand automatically as something comes flying through the air toward us.

"What - " I start, but they're both gone.

Ron looks down at the object in his hand. "It looks like a diary," he says. His eyes widen. "Hermione, you don't suppose - " He opens it eagerly. "It's in bloody Runes," he says, disgusted. "Here, you'd better have a look."

I take it from him slowly. It does look like a diary, but it can't be Talitha's own - it's not her handwriting

"Well?" Ron says, breathing down my neck.

"It's definitely a diary, but it isn't hers," I say. "This looks like a man's writing." I flip to the front. There's no name, but the initials "B.C." are scrawled (rather illegibly) on the first page. "Why do all men have horrible handwriting?" I say crossly. "His is even worse than yours."

"Who's B.C.?" Ron says. He's used to me complaining about his writing.

I shrug. "Not Talitha, and not Lestrange," I say. I try to think. "Not Flint," I say slowly. "Not anyone that I can think of. Maybe he's not anyone important." _Only why do I feel as though he is?_ I flip through the pages. "It seems to be a diary he kept at school," I say, looking up. "It's all about things he was studying. It looks as though he did lots of extra research." I turn another page. "He must have been an excellent student."

"He sounds like a prat," Ron says, losing interest. "Wonder why Malfoy gave it to me?"

I shrug. "Maybe he found it and thought it was Talitha's," I offer. "I don't think he ever studied Ancient Runes - he wouldn't have been able to read it." I stuff the book into my pocket for the moment. "I think I'll hold onto this," I say. "I'm sure some of it's very interesting."

"Right," Ron says. "You can read it out loud to me next time I have insomnia. Let's go and find Harry." He looks ready to start at once.

"We need to plan this out first," I say. "Malfoy said Neville was going round to warn the other sentries about Talitha, so they're bound to be on their guard if we turn up looking like ourselves. And I don't have a wand anymore, so - "

"Yeah, you do," Ron interrupts. He lets go of me and reaches up his sleeve to produce my wand. "I lifted it from Talitha at the same time I was taking the mirror. She never even noticed." He grins at me. "It's not exactly an Auror skill, picking pockets, but Perdita taught it to me one night while we were on guard duty. She said it comes in handy sometimes."

"It certainly did," I say gratefully. I feel much better, now that I've got my wand back. "Too bad you didn't know she'd taken the Polyjuice - you might have gotten that back as well."

Ron looks at me anxiously. "Hermione - the Time-Turner. She didn't -"

I feel frantically at my throat, breathing a sigh of relief as I find the long gold chain under my sweater. "Still here," I say, showing Ron the tiny hourglass. "She must not have known I had it."

"Keep it hidden, then," Ron advises. "And I've still got my flask of Polyjuice - there's not much in it, though."

"Don't drink it now," I tell him. "I like you better than Blaise Zabini."

"I should think so," Ron says, but he looks pleased just the same. He reaches for my hand. "I reckon we'd better go back out through the kitchen, the way we came in. That's where we left Neville and Hannah."

**Harry**

I stop just outside the door, pushing back the Cloak so the fresh air can get to us. "Ginny?" I whisper, but she doesn't stir. She's getting heavy, but I don't want to stop here in the open - we're too unprotected. I look around frantically for a place to hide.

There's a high wall just beyond us - if I can find an opening, it might make a good hiding place. I hurry toward it, stumbling over the rocks in the dark. After a bit of fumbling, I find a space that's just narrow enough to squeeze through if I turn sideways. My eyes are adjusting to the darkness now. The edge of the cliff is only about a hundred feet away, but that looks like a bench over there, just inside the wall. I set Ginny down on it carefully and kneel beside her, cradling her head on my arm.

"Come on, Ginny," I whisper frantically. "Wake up. _Please_ wake up!" I lean closer, trying to hear her heartbeat.

"It's all right," a woman's voice says from nearby. "She's not dead - she's just fainted."

I nearly faint myself before I realize she's a ghost. She shimmers faintly in the darkness, hovering over the bench. "See?" she says, nodding at Ginny. "She's starting to come round."

Ginny's eyelids flicker and she moans softly. "It's all right," I whisper, stroking her hair. "Just rest for a minute. Take deep breaths."

"Harry?" Ginny says uncertainly. "What happened? I was so dizzy…"

"It was the air inside," I explain. "It got to me too, but not as badly."

The ghost nods. "It hits you faster when you're small like we are," she says to Ginny.

Ginny raises her head and stares at her wonderingly for a minute, then sinks back against my arm. "We're outside," she says. "How did we get outside?"

"He brought you," the ghost tells her. "Are you visiting one of the graves? We don't get many of your sort here."

I look at her closely for the first time. She's definitely a ghost, but she can't have been dead for very long. There's nothing medieval about her appearance - not like the ghosts at Hogwarts. Just as she said, she's not any bigger than Ginny, even though she's several years older. There's something frail-looking about her - and something familiar, too…

"Mrs. Crouch?" I blurt without thinking.

The ghost looks startled. "How did you know my name?" she asks nervously. "Who are you?" She starts to drift away without waiting for my answer.

"Wait!" I call after her. "We don't mean you any harm."

Mrs. Crouch hovers indecisively. "I'm Harry, and this is my girlfriend Ginny," I say, deciding it's best to forego last names for the moment. "We're here because - well, some people are trying to do bad things and we want to stop them."

Mrs. Crouch glances toward the prison without much interest. "They're always doing bad things in there," she remarks. "I mostly stay out here. I never talk to any of the other ghosts, of course - they're really not my sort of people at all." She turns back to me. "How did you know my name?" She looks anxious again.

I consider my answer carefully. "I saw you in a Pensieve," I say at last, hoping she won't ask for details.

Mrs. Crouch shows as little interest in Pensieves as she did in the prison riot. "Do you know my husband?" she asks. "My - my son?" The last word is almost a whisper.

"Yeah - sort of," I say. _Doesn't she know what happened to them?_

Evidently not, judging by her next question. "Where is he?" she asks tremulously. "My Barty… did he get away? Is he with his father?"

I look helplessly at Ginny. "Your plan worked long enough for your son to escape," she says gently, sitting up. "But I'm afraid Mr. Crouch is dead."

"Bartholomew? Dead?" Mrs. Crouch asks. She doesn't seem terribly perturbed - well, she wouldn't; seeing as she's dead herself. It probably doesn't seem like such a big deal. "And Barty?"

Ginny and I exchange glances. "He's - er - in St. Mungo's," I say at last. "I'm afraid it's permanent." It's the truth, anyway - she doesn't have to know the details.

Mrs. Crouch nods slowly. "Maybe it's for the best," she says quietly. "There was always something… not right about him, but his father could never see it. He was clever enough, mind, but…" Her voice trails off. "He always got top marks in school," she says a moment later. "He was terribly interested in history, especially the stories about the Founders."

The Founders… I wonder if… but Ginny's tugging at my arm. "Harry, you've got to let Ron and Hermione know where we are!" she whispers urgently. "They think we're still inside!"

"Damn it," I mutter, yanking the mirror out. "Ron! Can you hear me?"

"You don't have to yell," Ron says. "I'm not deaf."

"Don't go down those stairs," I say. "The air's bad - Ginny and I had to come outside."

"Where are you now?" Ron asks.

I look around helplessly. "Behind a wall," I offer lamely. "Er - hang on." I turn to Mrs. Crouch. "Where are we, exactly?"

"Beyond the wall, of course," Mrs. Crouch answers. "Where they bury the prisoners."

_Thanks a lot - I'd never have worked that out on my own._ "We're beyond the wall where they bury the prisoners," I report obediently into the mirror. "Think you can find us?"

"Yeah," Ron says, much to my surprise. "Neville gave us the map. We're not far from you now - just stay where you are."

"They're coming," I tell Ginny, slipping the mirror back into my pocket. Mrs. Crouch has started to drift away again, and I call after her. She turns, looking mildly surprised.

"I'm sorry to bother you," I say, wondering how to begin. "But I wondered if your son - Barty - if he ever told you about the things he was learning."

Mrs. Crouch smiles. "We used to talk for hours," she says eagerly. "He knew all about the Founders. He told me stories about them."

"About Slytherin?" I ask directly.

Mrs. Crouch's smile falters slightly. "Yes, about Slytherin," she says. "I suppose you think I ought to have suspected then, but - "

"We don't think anything of the sort," Ginny says soothingly. "Lots of people are interested in the Founders."

"Well, exactly," Mrs. Crouch says, reassured. "Barty said Slytherin was the cleverest of all of them. He invented all sorts of things - they never tell about them in school, but it's all true."

"I know," I say. "Did Barty ever tell you about a device that could stop time?"

Mrs. Crouch frowns in concentration. "Do you know, I believe he did," she answers. "Only it wasn't Slytherin who invented it, was it? It was another man - I can't think what his name was -"

"Enoch Temporis," I say.

Mrs. Crouch beams at me. "You're nearly as clever as my Barty," she says. "Fancy you knowing that! Yes, it was Enoch Temporis. Barty always said he wished he could find the device, but I think myself that's it's much better that it was lost."

"Why did he want to find it?" Ginny asks. "Everyone who used it died."

"Barty thought he could have worked it out," Mrs. Crouch explains. "I daresay he could have - he was terribly clever, you know."

I wonder if he ever did manage to work it out? If he did, he evidently didn't share his theory with any of his Death Eater friends.

Mrs. Crouch is still hovering over us. "Barty's quite safe in St. Mungo's, isn't he?" she asks anxiously. "They won't send him back to prison, will they?"

"No, there's no chance of that," I assure her. "Mrs. Crouch -""

Mrs. Crouch is looking past me. "Someone's coming!" she whispers. "I'll have to be going - I don't mix with anyone from the prison, you know!" With that, she vanishes.

"Harry?" Ron's voice says from the other side of the wall.

"Over here," I tell him.

**Draco**

Perdita and I don't talk as we make our way up to the top battlements of the castle. I know who she is, of course - a blood-traitor. I remember Mother talking about the Gamps disowning a daughter who had become an Auror. I'm not sure if that's all she did to be disowned, or if there was more, but I'm not interested enough to ask.

I'm out of breath by the time we round the last curve in the staircase. Perdita tells me to wait behind a tapestry while she fetches Robards. I don't like it much - supposing someone comes along? - but she finally comes back.

"Come on," she says briefly.

I follow her around the corner, stopping abruptly when I come to the clock tower. "How are we supposed to get around this?" I ask.

"We're not," Perdita says. She leans forward and touches the hour hand lightly with her wand. A door on the side springs open, nearly knocking me off my feet. "In here," Perdita tells me, leading the way.

Inside the _clock_? Be a bit crowded, won't it? Only it's not. It's far roomier than I would have guessed from the outside. Robards and Kingsley Shacklebolt are huddled together at a small table looking at something. Robards whisks whatever it is out of sight as we come in - like I care what they're doing. I just want to get the hell off this island.

"Mr. Malfoy," Robards says, nodding at me. "Perdita tells me you were instrumental in rescuing Miss Granger. Well done."

Yeah, like I had a choice. "Thanks," I mutter, looking at the floor.

"She's Mrs. Weasley now, according to Perdita," Shacklebolt reminds him. He gives me a look that's not exactly friendly, but not unfriendly, either. "I gather you were present for the - er - reception?"

"If you want to call it that," I say. "I missed the battle - Potter made me stay upstairs - but I was there when they got married. I could've told them there'd be trouble."

"Another instance of Potter and Weasley taking matters into their own hands," Robards says testily. "They could easily have been killed."

"Well, they weren't," I point out, wondering to myself why I'm defending Potter and Weasley.

"Not yet," Robards says coldly. "They remain in great danger - and they're endangering innocent civilians as well."

Just how well does Robards know Ginny and Hermione Weasley? They're not exactly what I'd call innocent civilians.

"Hermione knows what she's doing," Perdita says. "Shame we couldn't get her for the Aurors, Gawain."

Robards turns the cold stare on her now, and she blushes and looks away.

"There's no point in going into it now," Shacklebolt says firmly. "What we need to do is get to this room - the underground graveyard, as you said, Perdita - before anything happens. The Warden should be here any minute, and - "

Whatever else he had to say is drowned out by the loud chiming of the clock. Wouldn't you know, it's midnight. The whole room trembles as it strikes twelve times.

"One of the drawbacks of being in here, unfortunately," Shacklebolt says, as the noise finally dies away. "Ah, here's the Warden."

The Warden looks like he's on his last legs. His face is sort of greenish, and he seems a bit unsteady on his legs.

"Sit down," Perdita tells him hastily.

The Warden groans and sinks into a chair. But I'm not looking at him anymore. I'm staring at the woman who accompanied him. "Lurleen?" I say in disbelief. It can't really be her, can it? Maybe she's got a twin sister who's an Auror, or -

"Hello, Draco," Lurleen says calmly.

Or maybe the Ministry put her in our house to spy on Father. Shame she never caught bloody Rodolphus, isn't it? "Father's not the one you should have been watching," I tell her.

"I wasn't just watching your father," Lurleen answers. "I was watching you, too - and your uncle."

Oh. So they knew about Rodolphus, then. "Why didn't you stop him?" I demand.

Lurleen exchanges a glance with Robards. "He won't be bothering anyone anymore," she says quietly. "I'm sorry, Draco - I'm afraid your uncle's dead."

I feel nothing but relief at the news. "How?" I ask after a minute. "Did you - "

Lurleen shakes her head. "He was running away from me when he tried to cross a bridge that was broken in the middle," she answers. "He was swept into the river and drowned."

A bridge… "Was it on our property?" I ask, feeling slightly ill.

Lurleen nods. "You know it, then," she remarks.

Yeah, I know it. I _did_ it. I caused Rodolphus's death with something I did yesterday - only it was ten years in the past.

Perdita's looking at me with concern. "Are you all right?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say, realizing that I am. I can't feel badly about Rodolphus - he was nothing but pure evil. I don't even feel guilty. It's not like I destroyed that bridge with the intention of drowning my uncle, after all. It was just sheer good luck that he happened to run across it.

The others have all turned their attention to the Warden. He looks a bit better, now that he's sitting down.

"Never in all my years at Azkaban - " he starts, lifting a trembling hand to mop his forehead.

I can tell he's settling in for a long speech. Robards must think so too, because he cuts him off straight away.

"How do we get to the underground graveyard?" he asks abruptly.

The Warden stares at him. "But no one goes there," he protests. "We stopped using it nearly a hundred years ago. It's been sealed off from the rest of the castle."

"Nonetheless, someone has found a way in," Robards says. "We wish to know if there is another entrance."

The Warden frowns. "There's a trap door, near the cells," he says slowly, thinking aloud. "It hasn't been used in years, naturally, but - "

"No," Robards says. "How else can we get there?"

"I don't know as you can," the Warden says apologetically. "My predecessor told me it'd been sealed off, and it wasn't as though I wanted to go there, so I never asked about another way."

"There'll be records, surely?" Shacklebolt says.

The Warden brightens. "In my office," he says proudly. "We have records that go all the way back to the beginning - mind, some of them are a bit hard to read, but the ones from a hundred years or so ago are still fairly legible." He looks around anxiously, his smile fading. "I suppose it's still there?" he asks. "My office, I mean?"

Lurleen and Perdita are already on their way to the door. "Hurry," Robards tells them.

I think myself they'd be better off going through the trap door. I mean, they're Aurors - they can defend themselves long enough to get through the battle, can't they? Shacklebolt looks in my direction and seems to know what I'm thinking.

"We'll use the trap door as a last resort," he explains. "If we're seen, we lose the element of surprise. It's much better to find another entrance and take them off guard."

"There's no need to explain to him," Robards says. He's still sounding testy.

I want to ask if I can leave - but I don't quite dare. I have a feeling I'm going to be spending a few hours inside this clock. Shacklebolt's next words take me by surprise.

"Draco, you've been close to a number of people in Talitha's group," he says thoughtfully. "Are there any of them that still trust you?"

I stare at him, astonished. "Maybe," I say. "Not Zabini, but some of the others who don't know me quite as well." Then I figure out what he's getting at. "No," I tell him. "I'm staying out of this. It's not safe."

"Few things are," Shacklebolt says.

"No more civilians!" Robards snaps. For once I agree with him.

"It was just a thought, Gawain," Shacklebolt says calmly. He lapses into silence.

Robards turns to me. "Mr. Malfoy, I believe I'm a bit unclear about some of the details leading to Talitha's escape," he says. "Perhaps you could enlighten me."

Oh, hell. I knew this was going to come up. "Er," I say. "Well, it was Zabini's fault, really…"

**Ron**

Harry and Ginny are just sitting on a bench when we finally track them down. "Why are you out here?" I ask.

"We told you, the air's bad," Ginny says. "I passed out - Harry had to carry me outside."

I look back at the castle. "How did you get out?" I ask. Harry can't have carried her all the way back up through the prisoners' riot. Ginny's not very big, but she would've been dead weight if she was unconscious.

"There's a door just beyond the wall," Harry explains. "It leads out here."

"Brilliant!" I say, relieved. "We can get in that way."

"No, we can't," Hermione protests. "Not if we can't breathe the air."

"Bubble-Head charms," I say kindly, patting her shoulder. Hermione tends to overlook the obvious sometimes. I think it's because she's so clever that she always looks for a complicated solution.

Harry grins at her. "I never thought of it, either," he admits.

Hermione frowns at both of us. "Who were you talking to before we got here?" she asks, changing the subject. "I thought I heard a woman's voice."

"Mrs. Crouch was here," Ginny explains. "Her ghost, I mean."

"Poor thing," Hermione says. "I don't wonder she haunts this place. Did you - did you tell her?"

"Sort of," Harry says uncomfortably. "She kept asking about Barty, so I said he was in St. Mungo's."

"She'll figure it out when she sees him," Ginny says, patting Harry's hand. "It might be the best thing, really - once she sees that she can't do anything else for him, she might be able to move on."

"_Can_ she?" I ask doubtfully. I sort of thought you had to stay a ghost after you made up your mind to be one. I look at Hermione for an answer, but she's not listening.

"Ron," she whispers, her eyes wide. "B.C. _Barty Crouch_."

"What?" Harry asks.

Hermione wordlessly pulls the diary from her pocket and holds it out to him.

Harry reaches for it. "It's in Runes," I warn. Harry pulls his hand back.

"Is it his?" he asks eagerly. "Barty Crouch's? What's it say? Anything about Enoch Temporis?"

Hermione sits down on the bench next to Ginny and lights her wand. "Research on Transfiguration charms," she mutters to herself, turning pages rapidly. "Animagi, Potions - oh, here - no, never mind - honestly, this _handwriting_!" She looks up to throw me and Harry accusing looks.

Harry's writing's even worse than mine. "Dean Thomas has quite good writing," I tell her. "Some men do."

"Dean's an artist," Hermione says, turning another page. "Barty Crouch definitely wasn't."

Ginny leans over her shoulder. "Look for Time-Turners," she advises. "It might lead into Enoch Temporis."

"Or Slytherin," Harry says. "Or - "

"Here it is," Hermione says. "He's talking about a book he saw in Slughorn's office - that must have been the one we saw, Ron."

I sit down on her other side. "Read it out loud," I say.

Hermione holds her wand close to the page and begins.

_"I did some more research and learned that Slytherin continued his experiments with time after the death of his student,"_ she reads. _"Subsequent trials with a house-elf, a goblin and a centaur proved that the device was as lethal to all living creatures as it was to humans."_ Hermione looks up indignantly.

I don't know where she ever got the idea that Slytherin was a nice bloke. "I know, love," I say, patting her shoulder. "Go on, read us the rest."

_"There has to be a way around it,"_ Hermione continues. _"If only I could lay my hands on the device, I'm sure I could make it work. According to legend, it was passed down through generations of one pureblood family. I'm determined to find out who owns it now."_

Hermione looks up again. "That's all," she says. "The next bit is all about Conjuring Charms."

"Maybe there's more later on," Harry says hopefully, but there isn't.

"Nothing," Hermione reports five minutes later. She turns back to the first entry. "One pureblood family," she repeats thoughtfully. "That'll be the Lestranges, I suppose. Why them, I wonder?"

"Maybe they're the only ones who can use it without having it kill them," I suggest. "Rodolphus had the incantation on him, didn't he?"

Harry starts to answer, but Ginny stops him. "Did you hear that?" she hisses. "I thought I heard a footstep."

We all listen, but there's no sound except the far-off crashing of the waves.

"_Muffliato,_" Hermione says. "We should've done that before, probably. Do you think anyone overheard?"

"You two stay here," I tell her and Ginny. Harry and I check all around, but there's nobody.

"Nothing," I report, coming back. "Sure you didn't just imagine it, Ginny?"

I'm expecting her to snap back at me, but she just looks uncertain. "Maybe," she admits with a shiver. "Or maybe it was just a ghost."

Harry puts his arm around her. "This place is getting on all our nerves," he says. "What were you saying about the incantation, Ron?"

"Only that Rodolphus had it on him, so maybe that got handed down through the family, too," I say. "You know, an ancient bit of parchment with Consisto-whatsis written on it."

"_Consistomundus_," Harry says. "I wonder…"

"It doesn't matter," Hermione says firmly. "Rodolphus isn't going to get a chance to use it. And neither is anyone else. I think you should destroy that device, Harry. It's - it's evil!"

**Hermione**

The other three stare at me. "Ah, come on, Hermione," Harry says uneasily. _"Evil?"_

"Evil," I repeat. "Stopping time goes against Magical Law. It's wrong - that's why it doesn't work. If you stop time, you die. Maybe everyone else dies, too - we don't really know, do we?"

Ron sighs. "It'd be dead easy, stopping them in their tracks and just collecting all their wands, though," he says longingly.

"Who'd collect them?" I ask. "We'd be frozen, too. And even if you did find a way to get around it, how would you ever start time up again? There's no counter-incantation."

Complete silence greets this remark. "Isn't there?" Ginny asks after a moment. "Maybe on the other side of that bit of parchment?"

Harry shakes his head. "There was only the one word," he answers. "I guess you're right, Hermione. It needs to be destroyed."

"Where's Gryffindor's sword when you need it?" Ron says. "You didn't happen to bring any basilisk teeth with you, did you?"

Harry gets to his feet. "I don't want anyone to ever get their hands on this again," he says, looking out over the graveyard to the cliff beyond. He reaches for the mokeskin bag around his neck.

"Don't throw it on this side," I say quickly, guessing his intention. "It'll just wash up again. Go out to that ledge so it'll travel way out to sea."

They're staring again. "What?" I say. Honestly - everyone knows that.

The four of us make our way over to the far end of the cliff. There's nothing here but the rocks and the black sea far below. Harry takes the golden orb out of the bag and hefts it thoughtfully. "Here, take this," he says to Ron, handing him the scrap of parchment. "We should probably burn it or something." He starts making his way out onto the ledge.

"You three stay back," he warns. "It's a bit slippery."

"Be careful!" Ginny says anxiously.

We watch as Harry throws the device from him with all his strength. I see a flash of gold for a split second before it disappears into the darkness.

"I didn't hear a splash," Ron whispers to me.

"You wouldn't, with the sound from the waves and the wind," I answer, shivering. Ron pulls me up against his side as Harry rejoins us.

"What next?" he says.

"Now we go back and do Bubble-Head Charms," I answer. "We're supposed to meet Perdita and Robards."

Harry and Ron exchange glances. "We need all the help we can get," Harry says, almost as though he's trying to convince himself of something. "Right, let's see if we can find that door again."

We start back, Harry and Ginny a bit ahead of me and Ron. "It was just here," Harry says, staring at the side of the building. "At least I thought it was."

"It's probably enchanted to stay hidden," Ron answers, joining him. "Isn't there a charm for that sort of thing? Seems to me Perdita mentioned something…"

He draws away from the rest of us, looking intently at the wall. Suddenly I see him drop to the ground.

"Ron, what's wrong?" I call, starting to run toward him.

Ginny grabs my arm. "Stay back till we know," she warns, but I pull away impatiently.

Harry's already started forward with his wand drawn. "What the hell?" he whispers.

Ron seems to be struggling with something - only no one's there. It looks almost as though he's trying to wrest his hand away from something unseen. And then he collapses again.

I'm at his side a second later. He's struggling to sit up and swearing steadily under his breath. "What was it?" I ask anxiously, kneeling down by his side. "Are you all right?"

"Not really," Ron says, grimacing with pain. "She got me in the knee - knocked me right off my feet."

"Who got you?" Harry asks, leaning over him. "What the hell was going on?"

"It was Talitha," Ron answers. "She'd done a Disillusionment Charm, but I could still see her a little bit. She got the parchment with the incantation from me, Harry - that's what she was after."

Harry wheels around without a word and takes off in the opposite direction.

"You won't be able to see her," I call after him, but he's already gone.

Ginny looks uncertainly after Harry before joining us. "That doesn't look good," she remarks, peering down at Ron's leg. "It's at sort of a funny angle. Do you think it's broken?"

"Do I look like a Healer?" Ron says between clenched teeth. I drop to the ground next to him and wrap my arms around him from behind, pressing my cheek against his hair and trying not to listen to the swearing.

We hear footsteps and look up in alarm, but it's just Harry coming back. "No sign of her," he reports. He looks anxiously down at Ron. "You can't stay out in the open like this. Think you could stand if I helped you?"

"No," I say firmly, before Ron can answer. "Leave us the Cloak and go and fetch Michael Corner. He ought to know what to do." _Let's hope they got round to broken knees in the first six months of Healer training…_

"Good idea," Harry says, looking relieved. He hands me the Cloak. "Ginny, you'd better stay here with them and - "

"I'm going with you," Ginny says resolutely. "We don't know where Talitha's gone. She could ambush you or something."

"She won't be back," Harry says. "She got what she came for."

"She didn't," I argue. "The incantation's useless without the device." _Unless she got that, too. Ron did mention not hearing a splash…_

None of us wants to say it, but I can tell we're all thinking the same thing. "That footstep I heard," Ginny says at last. "Supposing it was her?"

"Sorry," Ron mutters. "I should have burned that parchment straight off."

I look down at him anxiously. His face is white in the moonlight. "Go get Michael," I say to Harry. "We can talk about this later."

He turns to go, with Ginny clinging to his arm. "Stay under the Cloak," he reminds me.

I unfold it, spreading the silvery folds over both of us. "Is it really bad?" I ask Ron.

"I'm all right," Ron says, looking after Harry and Ginny. They're still within earshot.

_"Muffliato,"_ I say.

"All right, it's bad," Ron admits at once. "It feels like it did the time I broke my leg. Hermione, you don't think I've got a weak leg because of that, do you? Supposing it starts breaking at every little thing now?"

"Of course you don't," I say. "For one thing, Talitha obviously cursed you with something - and in any case, I think it was the other leg you broke the last time."

"Oh, yeah," Ron says, relieved. "Maybe it was. I - is that Harry already? What'd he do, Apparate?"

I look up. It's Harry, and Ginny's with him - but Michael isn't. Instead, I see a blonde girl and a tall man with grey hair.

"Oh, bloody hell," Ron whispers. "He's brought Robards instead. I'd rather break both my arms and both legs than have him show up right now."

"Kinglsey's with them, too," I say, feeling incredibly relieved to see him. "So's Hestia." I draw the Cloak back as they approach. Perdita drops to her knees next to us.

"Your knee's dislocated, by the look of it," she says to Ron.

"Can you put it right?" Ron asks hopefully.

Perdita looks up at Robards instead of answering. He stares at Ron with a forbidding expression on his face. "An Auror should remain on guard at all times," he says sternly.

"She was invisible," I say, a bit more sharply than I'd intended. I look at Perdita. "How do we fix this?"

"There's a charm, but it's a bit painful," Perdita answers. "He really ought to have a Sleeping Potion first - it relaxes the muscles."

"No Sleeping Potion," Ron says stubbornly. "I'd be out for hours - there's no time for that. Just put it back."

"Ron - " I start, but I can tell by the look on his face that it's no good.

Robards looks almost approving. "Follow us as soon as you've finished with him," he says to Perdita, turning away. "Now, the door should be just about here, according to the records… _Portus Revelio_!"

A small wooden door appears on the side of the building.

"I knew there was a charm," Ron mutters. "Get on with it, Perdita - he's going in without us!"

Robards is already reaching for the handle. "The air's bad," Harry calls. "We need to do Bubble-Head Charms first."

"We?" Robards says, not looking round. "Oh, I think not. You and your friends, Mr. Potter, will remain out here."

"No, they won't," Kingsley says abruptly. It's the first time he's spoken since they got here. "Harry's the only one who's been inside, Gawain. He ought to be the one to lead us." He nods at Harry. "Whenever you're ready, then."

Robards looks furious, but steps aside. "Right," Harry says, not looking at anyone but Kingsley. "Like I said, we need Bubble-Head Charms. Come on, Ginny." He holds out his hand and she slips hers into it, giving me a slightly stunned look from behind her Bubble-mask as she passes.

I manage to find my voice. "Harry," I say, and he turns. "Take the Cloak," I tell him.

"No," Harry protests. "You're out in the open here."

"It's dark, and we can do Disillusionment Charms," I say. "Take it."

"She's right," Kingsley says. "Take the Cloak, Harry."

"_Accio Cloak_," Harry whispers reluctantly. He catches my eye and mouths the words "be careful".

The three of us watch in silence as they pass into the building. "Get on with it, Perdita," Ron says for the second time.

Perdita looks at me and shrugs. "Help me get him up against the side of the building," she says to me. "It'll help with the leverage."

"Now what?" I say breathlessly, a few minutes later.

"You'll need to keep his leg completely immobilized," Perdita tells me. "And _you_ - " sternly, to Ron - "whatever you do, don't pull away!"

I place my hands on either side of Ron's leg, holding it in place. Perdita seems to fumble for a minute; then flicks her wand at the knee. Ron tenses, but doesn't move. There's a sharp, popping noise, and the leg snaps back into place.

"That wasn't so bad," Ron says, letting out his breath. "I thought it'd be a lot worse." He manages to grin at me. "The bit where you held my thigh was my favorite. You can carry on if you like."

"Stop it," I say, blushing furiously. Perdita looks like she's trying not to laugh. "How does it feel?" I ask, changing the subject firmly.

He flexes his knee cautiously. "A bit wobbly," he admits. "Both my legs do, for some reason."

"After-effects of the charm," Perdita says, not quite meeting his eyes. "Keep still while I wrap it up." She flicks her wand at his knee, encasing it in white plaster.

I pat his shoulder and get to my feet, motioning Perdita to one side. "What was it?" I ask in a low voice. "Jelly-Legs Jinx?"

Perdita grins at me. "I thought it'd hurt a lot less that way," she admits. "It worked a treat, though - wait'll I tell Marvin." She looks back at Ron over her shoulder. "Give it about ten minutes before you take the jinx off him, so the knee has time to settle," she says.

She's already turning to go. "Perdita!" Ron calls. "We're coming with you."

"You can follow in a few minutes," Perdita says. "You won't be much use if you're not steady on your feet." She starts to leave again and then stops. "Gawain's not going to like this idea, but I think you ought to round up the rest of your friends and bring them in with you," she says abruptly. "We're going to need all the help we can get."

"Are you sure?" I ask doubtfully. "We've got them guarding the entrances."

"We don't need anyone at the entrances, Hermione," Perdita answers. "Gawain already sealed off the trap door, and a few of the Aurors are helping the Warden round up the few prisoners who were still fighting. Everyone else is in the underground graveyard."

The _what_? I stare at her.

"Oh, yeah," Ron says. "I forgot to tell you that bit."

"No one's coming out of there alive tonight," Perdita says quietly. "Go and get your friends."

She opens the door, disappearing into the castle.

"I think I can stand now," Ron says hopefully.

"No, you can't," I say. It hasn't been ten minutes yet. I sit down on the ground next to him and slip my arm around his waist. "Does it still hurt?"

"It's bloody killing me," Ron admits, only he doesn't say "bloody". I let it go - he's certainly had enough provocation.

I slip my arm around his waist. "You should have taken the Sleeping Potion," I say.

"I'd be completely useless if I had," Ron says. "This has finished me with Robards, Hermione. Did you see his face? He was furious with me."

"He was just concerned," I say soothingly, even though it sort of seemed that way to me, too. "No one with any sense could possibly blame you for being attacked."

Ron looks unconvinced. I steal a quick glance at my watch. Five more minutes and I'll take the jinx off.

A glimmer at the edge of the cliff catches my attention. A ghost, maybe? The wind picks up, carrying with it a faint scent of citrus.

I squeeze Ron's hand. "It's her," I whisper, almost soundlessly. I feel a wave of fear, followed by a sudden anger. Doesn't anything ever make her stop? It's me she keeps coming after. I have to face her down this time.

I'm on my feet before Ron can stop me. "No," he protests, trying to stand. He reaches for my ankle, but I manage to evade him.

"It's all right," I tell him. "Stay there."

I advance forward, slowly, with my wand straight out in front of me. Behind me I can hear Ron scrabbling madly against the side of the castle in a vain attempt to get to his feet.

Talitha's wand is out, but she makes no attempt to escape or attack. She just stands there, waiting, with her eyes steadily meeting mine. "Hermione," she acknowledges.

"Hello, Talitha," I say.

"It's always you getting in my way, isn't it?" Talitha says, almost conversationally. "First in the Ministry, and now here. I don't want to kill you, Hermione, but I will if I have to."

"You won't," I say. "Give it up, Talitha. It's over. Let me help you - "

Talitha laughs harshly. "Help me?" she repeats mockingly. "You can't help me, Hermione. Even you won't be able to stop your good friend Kingsley Shacklebolt from sending me to prison - and I'd rather die than spend the rest of my life on this rock."

I take a deep breath. I can only think of one thing to do. "I _can _help you," I say insistently, reaching into my robe and pulling out the thin gold chain. "I can take you back as far as you need to go - ten years, maybe - and you can live them over. You can start fresh. This time, you won't get involved with the Death Eaters and you can just be - well, _normal_."

Talitha's eyes are on the Time-Turner. "Damn you," she remarks, without heat. "I was looking for that." But she makes no move to take it from me. "Don't you get it, Hermione? There are no other choices for me. I was born to be a Death Eater. My father - "

"The hell with your father," I say crossly. "If I never hear the name Lestrange again it'll be too soon."

Talitha laughs again, but this time she seems genuinely amused. "I wish I could have talked you over to our side," she says regretfully. "You're the cleverest witch I ever knew. You're throwing your life away by marrying Weasley, you know. No one in that family ever amounts to anything. In ten years you'll be living in a tumbledown shack with a half-dozen brats clinging to your skirt. But if you joined forces with us - "

"Never," I say, looking her straight in the eye.

Talitha sighs. "I'll make a bargain with you," she says. "Give me the Time-Turner, and I'll let you live. I'll even throw in your precious Weasley, since you're so set on having him. I'm afraid I can't give you Potter, but - "

"No," I say.

"No?" Talitha repeats. "Sure you won't change your mind, Hermione?"

Just for a moment, she sounds like the old Miranda - the one I used to know. "I'm sure," I say gently. "Talitha, please - "

She takes a step back. "There's only one thing to do, then," she says. She's holding something up, something small and gold…

"Talitha, no!" I say frantically. "You'll die if you use it - it's cursed!"

"Not for me, it isn't," she answers. "I heard you talking in the graveyard - the only people who can use the device safely are the members of the family it was passed down through. Well, that's me, isn't it? I'm Rabastan Lestrange's daughter!"

"We were just guessing," I argue, but she's not listening.

"You didn't even know I was there, did you, Hermione?" she says tauntingly. "I followed you to the edge of the cliff - and I did a Summoning Charm. It simply flew into my hands - almost as if it knew where it belonged." She smiles at me. "It's time, Hermione," she says.

I raise my wand, and hers counters it instantly. "Don't," she warns. "If you try to stop me, I'll kill you."

"You're going to kill me, anyway," I answer. I hear something behind me - Ron, getting closer? - but I don't dare to turn around.

"It has to be that way," Talitha says, almost regretfully. "I'll do it quickly, though. You won't even know what hit - "

A curse flies by, missing her left ear by less than an inch. I glance over my shoulder and see Ron. He still can't walk properly, but somehow he's managed to drag himself to within a hundred feet of us.

Talitha fires a jet of green light back at him. He evades it by rolling to one side.

I turn on her furiously. "Let him alone!" I snap.

"I'll leave you both alone if you'll just bloody back off," Talitha answers. She raises the device high in the air. _"Consistomundo!"_

And the ground shifts under my feet. 

**Harry**

I can feel Robards' eyes boring a hole in my back as we advance cautiously into the castle. I stop as we get near the corner. "They're in there," I whisper, gesturing with my wand. My voice sounds strangely loud in my own head because of the Bubble-Head mask, but the others are all straining to hear me.

"That's fairly obvious," Robards says, his own voice sounding muffled. "Well, Mr. Potter, this would seem to be your little party. What do you suggest we do next?"

Just for a second, I feel flustered. It's the way Snape used to make me feel in Potions class - as though I couldn't think straight.

Ginny squeezes my hand, and my head clears. I know exactly what to do. "We surround them and block them in," I say confidently. "Seal off all of the exits, so they can't escape. There are a lot of them in that room - they've got to be running out of air, and they can't keep doing Bubble-Head Charms forever. As long as we keep the door to the outside open, we'll be able to breathe ourselves. Once they've succumbed to the bad air, we go in and Disarm all of them."

"They'll just Disapparate," Robards snaps. "Try again."

"They won't," I say. "Because you'll have put an Anti-Apparition Charm on the underground graveyard."

Robards looks stunned. "It just might work," he mutters slowly.

Kingsley catches my eye and gives me a solemn wink.

Robards eyes me sternly. "Mr. Potter, are you familiar with the charm for preventing Apparition?" he asks.

"Er, no," I admit. _Doesn't_ he _know how to do it? He's Head of the Auror Department._

"It's time you learned it," Robards says, to my immense relief. "Come with me."

**Ron**

For a minute I can't think what the hell happened. I lie in the dark, ears ringing, and try to reconstruct the last few minutes. Hermione and I were waiting for my legs to go back to normal so I could stand up - and then she saw Talitha, and - bloody hell, Talitha! I try to scramble to my feet, but my legs collapse underneath me.

"Hermione!" I call frantically. "Hermione, where are you?" _Please don't let her be dead - don't let Talitha have taken her…_

"Here," Hermione answers faintly from several feet away, and I feel like I can breathe again. "Are you all right?"

"I think so," I say cautiously. "Are you?"

"Yes," Hermione says. "Stay there and I'll come to you." A few seconds later she's at my side.

I pull her down next to me and hold her tightly. "I thought we'd had it," I whisper. "What the hell just happened, anyway? And where's Talitha?"

"She said the incantation, and - I don't know," Hermione answers. "It - it felt almost like an earthquake. I think I must have blacked out for a minute."

An earthquake sounds about right. And if it shook us up out here… I glance worriedly over my shoulder at the castle, but it still seems to be standing. Who knows what sort of damage it might have on the inside, though? And they're all trapped underneath - in the underground graveyard. I think of Perdita saying "no one's coming out of there alive" and a chill goes down my spine.

"We'd better go and see," Hermione whispers. She disengages herself from me and stands up. "Come on."

I stay where I am. "I can't," I remind her.

"Sorry," Hermione says absently. _"Finite incantem!_ There, try it now - I'll help you up."

_Finite incantem?_ "Perdita jinxed me?" I say indignantly. "And you _knew_?"

"Not until after," Hermione says, like that makes it okay.

"We are definitely going to talk about this later," I tell her.

Hermione's holding out both hands to me. "Do you need me to Conjure a cane or something for you?"

_"No,"_ I say. "I'm all right." I'm not, as it turns out, but I manage to get to my feet with Hermione's help.

The damage is a lot more obvious once I'm standing. I light my wand and have a good look around. The edge of the cliff looks a good deal closer than it was before. There are loose rocks everywhere - and there's a jagged rip in the earth where Talitha was standing the last time I saw her.

Hermione's looking at it, too. "Ron?" she whispers, clinging to me. "Do you suppose she's in there?"

"I'll have a look," I say bravely, even though it's the last thing I want to do. "You stay here."

"No," Hermione says automatically, but she doesn't protest when I put her gently away from me and limp toward the crack in the ground.

What I see nearly makes me throw up. It's a damned good thing I haven't eaten in several hours. "Don't come over," I say sharply to Hermione.

"Is she - is she dead?" Hermione whispers.

"Yeah," I say briefly. It's the understatement of the century, that. I never saw anyone so dead before.

Hermione covers her face with her hands and I turn my back on what's left of Talitha to hobble back to her as quickly as I can.

I'm not sure what to say - "sorry" doesn't seem quite the right thing. "All right, love?" I say inadequately. I put both arms around her and she buries her face in my shoulder. She's trembling all over.

"I don't know what I was thinking," she whispers. "I nearly got us both killed."

I don't know what she was thinking, either, but now doesn't seem to be the best time to say so. I just hold her tight till she stops shaking.

"I thought - I thought I could stop her," Hermione says at last, raising her face from my shoulder. "I thought I could _save_ her."

"I don't think she really wanted to kill you," I say thoughtfully. "She must have been watching us the whole time Perdita was working on my knee. There was nothing to stop her from following Harry and the rest into the castle. She was waiting to get you on your own." _And then after Hermione refused to join up with her, she was probably going to kill both of us and steal the Time-Turner, but never mind that bit just now._

"She said there was never a choice for her," Hermione says quietly. "Maybe there wasn't, at the end."

I think about what the Hogwarts professors told us about Talitha - how she wasn't quite right even as a kid. That'd be the Lestrange coming out in her, wouldn't it? There was no choice for her from the day she was born, if you ask me.

"Let's just send a Patronus to Neville and have him find the others," I say. "I don't feel up to walking around the whole bloody island."

Hermione's face turns white. "Ron, the time-stopping device," she whispers. "It's got to be here somewhere. We have to find it before someone else does." She turns resolutely toward the crevice that hides Talitha, but I grab her arm.

"Send the Patronus," I tell her. "I'll look for it."

"Sure you don't mind?" Hermione asks gratefully.

I'm not exactly thrilled, but I don't want her to see Talitha the way she looks now. "I don't mind," I lie. "My knee's feeling a lot better."

"You don't look like it feels better," Hermione says skeptically, but she lets me go. She's got more color in her face now, and I feel like I can leave her for a bit.

I turn and make my way slowly back. My knee's throbbing steadily, and it's hard to keep my balance on the rough ground. I stumble over something and light my wand for a quick look.

Oh bloody hell. It's an arm. An arm that's not attached to anyone. I turn away hastily, trying not to be sick, and catch sight of a glimmer of gold, still clasped in the fingers.

It would have to be _there_, wouldn't it? She couldn't have dropped it a few feet away or something - that'd be too easy. I've never been so grateful to be a wizard in my life - if I was a Muggle, I'd have to touch the damned arm. _"Accio,"_ I manage, keeping one hand over my mouth just in case.

The device flies into my hand and I drop it into a pocket hastily. I can't help being pleased with myself for not throwing up. I must be getting a bit tougher with age.

"Got it," I call to Hermione. It occurs to me belatedly that maybe we shouldn't be making so much noise, but we seem to be the only people around. Because the others are probably all trapped inside. Maybe the ceiling collapsed or -

_Use the mirror,_ a voice in my head says. It sounds a bit like Hermione's voice, but she's way over there so it can't be her. I pull the mirror from my pocket - luckily not the same pocket where I stuck the device.

"Harry?" I whisper. "Can you hear me? Harry, Talitha's dead."

**Draco**

They've left me in the clock tower all on my own, and I don't like it. I asked Robards why I couldn't go home, and he didn't even bother answering - just gave me a disgusted look and swept out. I don't see why - I mean, it's not as though it would've been hard for him to send for a boat, and there's nothing to worry about at home now that Rodolphus is dead and the rest of his lot are all obviously here. And I haven't even got a wand to defend myself with - bloody Robards took it with him. Which makes this an extremely dangerous place if you ask me, and if I'd had any idea what I was in for I wouldn't have let Kreacher talk me into -

Wait. Kreacher. I've no idea if he's still around, but it's worth a try.

"Kreacher?" I say cautiously.

Nothing. Of course, he's not my house-elf, he's Potter's. Maybe if I say I need to give him a message for Potter -

I'm about to try when the bloody clock starts up again. At least it's only one o'clock, so it'll only chime once. It gets about halfway through and chokes.

Good, I think. Maybe it's broken. It's funny, though, I almost feel as though I can't move or speak until it finishes the rest of the -

Suddenly the whole tower seems to lurch - I can't describe it any better than that. Then, with a sort of wheezing sound, the clock finishes the other half of its single chime.

What the hell? If this place is going to start coming down around my ears, I'm not staying. Even Robards can't expect that. "Kreacher," I say desperately. "Kreacher, I've got an urgent message for you to give to Potter."

Kreacher appears almost instantly. "The son of the Malfoys has a message for Kreacher?" he asks suspiciously.

"Yeah," I say, not quite sure how to talk him into getting me out of here. "The thing is, Kreacher, I need you to bring me to where Potter is." With any luck, he's outside - preferably near a boat.

Kreacher looks away. "Kreacher is perfectly capable of delivering a message to his master," he informs the table. "Kreacher may be getting old, but his memory is perfect. He needs no assistance from the son of the Malfoys in remembering a simple - "

"It's the sort of message that needs to be delivered in person," I break in.

Kreacher eyes me but says nothing.

"Look, I just want to get out of here," I say desperately. "Didn't you feel the tower shift? I don't know what happened - maybe a big wave hit the island or something - but it definitely moved."

"That was no wave, son of the Malfoys," Kreacher informs me. "That was an attempt to stop time."

I stare at him, open-mouthed. "To stop _time_?" I say incredulously. _Is that what they've all been going on about?_

"The bad witch is dead," Kreacher says calmly. "Kreacher could have told her what would happen to anyone who tried to go against the laws of magic, but she was not one to listen to a house-elf."

"Right," I say, giving up on any attempt to figure out what's going on. Talitha's apparently dead, and that's good enough for me. "Kreacher, if you won't take me to Potter, can't you at least bring me outside? I really don't like the looks of that thing." I point to the pendulum above us, which is still swaying ominously.

Kreacher considers. "The son of the Malfoys will tell no one who helped him?" he asks a chair.

"I won't, I promise," I say, almost weak with gratitude. "Please, Kreacher!" I never thought I'd beg a house-elf, but I'm past caring.

Kreacher holds out his arm.

**Harry**

Robards taps his Bubble-Head mask and it vanishes. "As long as the door remains open, we should have sufficient fresh air to proceed," he says. He looks at me expectantly until I remove my own mask. I'm not positive he's right, but if I start to feel sick I suppose I can always put it back on.

"Mind you keep yours on," I say to Ginny. I lean closer and whisper, "Stay with Kingsley." I wait till she's moved next to him before holding out the edge of the Invisibility Cloak to Robards.

He lifts the corner and inspects it with interest before pulling it over his head. "Excellent quality," he says, sounding almost surprised. "I've owned a number of these in my time, but nothing so good as this."

If he only knew. I wait for Robards to start off, but he only stands there, looking at me almost challengingly. It must be because of what Kingsley said before. Fine, then - I don't mind leading the way.

I stop just beyond the corner and wait. "Will we go a bit closer?" I whisper, when Robards looks at me. I'd like to know just who's in that room.

Robards nods, and I edge silently forward. I was expecting it to look a bit more like a proper graveyard, but it just looks like an ordinary cellar to me - if you don't count the ghosts who are drifting about aimlessly. Most of them make the Bloody Baron look like somebody's nice old uncle - I don't wonder that Mrs. Crouch stays away. I don't see any headstones, though. Maybe they're all buried under the floor, like Westminster Abbey. Or am I thinking of someplace else? The Muggle side of my education was sadly neglected, owing to the fact that the Dursleys never took me out of the house if they could possibly help it. I look more closely and realize that what I'd thought were bricks on the floor are actually small plaques set tightly together.

I glance sideways at Robards, but he's staring past me into the room. I look back, too. There aren't as many people gathered as I'd hoped, but I recognize Avery and the witch and wizard who were with Flint upstairs. There are eleven of them altogether - all wearing Bubble-Head masks. I don't see Simon Parkinson or Adrian Pucey - or Talitha.

Robards nods with grim satisfaction and makes a wand gesture that I immediately recognize as a non-verbal _Muffliato_. Nice he thought we had at least one thing to contribute, anyway.

"I thought there'd be more of them," I whisper.

Robards gives no sign of having heard me. I look back again. They seem to be having some sort of argument. It's a bit hard to tell with all the Bubble-Heads, but the two from upstairs appear to be in favor of waiting here for Talitha, while the others all think they ought to go back out and look for her. We ought to do the Anti-Apparition Charm straight away, then - before they all get tired of waiting and leave.

One of the ghosts is looking in our direction. I'm not sure if it can see us under the Cloak or not, but it's just as well not to risk it. These aren't the sort of ghosts who would be on our side.

Robards has seen it, too. With no apparent sign of alarm, he beckons to me and I follow him back around the corner.

"Anti-Apparition Charms are not particularly difficult to cast," Robards says abruptly. "They are, however, rather time-consuming. The series of steps must be followed in the proper order if - " He breaks off just as abruptly as he'd started.

"If what?" I start to ask, but it's almost as though I can't move or speak.

I feel a tremor under my feet. I look wildly at Robards, but he seems to be frozen in place.

"What's going on?" I whisper.

Robards starts and looks at me. "Some sort of spell of theirs, no doubt," he mutters, looking wrathfully at the stream of light coming from around the corner. "They may suspect our presence. We must use extreme caution, Mr. Potter!"

I never heard of a spell that makes the ground shake, but as Robards is all too fond of reminding me, there's quite a lot I don't know. "You don't think it's the castle," I venture hesitantly. "I mean, there've been a lot of curses and things flying about - "

Robards gives me a look of amused disbelief. "Azkaban Prison has stood for centuries, Mr. Potter," he says coldly. "If curses were all it took to bring it down, it would have become a heap of rubble hundreds of years ago."

Fair point. I start to ask if he's going to do the Anti-Apparition Charm now, but Ron's voice stops me before I can get the words out.

Did he just say Talitha's _dead_? I hold up a hand to Robards and he halts at once, staring at me inquiringly as I pull the mirror from my pocket.

"You're sure?" I say incredulously. "What happened?"

"I've seen her, and she's very definitely dead," Ron answers. His face looks slightly green, but maybe it's just the light in here. "She tried to use it - the device. It tore the ground up out here - it was like a bloody earthquake or something. Didn't you feel it inside?"

"We felt something," I say. "More like the ground vibrating than anything."

"Well, if it gets any worse, you'd better come out of there," Ron says. "We - hang on." His face disappears for a moment and Hermione's comes into view.

"Harry, look and see if there are any cracks in the walls or the ceiling," she says breathlessly. "I read a book about California once, and it said that was a sure sign of earthquake damage."

I suppress a smile. Azkaban's not exactly California, but I suppose she could be right. "We'll be out soon," I say. "Just stay where you are."

"Neville and the others are all here waiting," Hermione says. "We'll be just outside the door."

I let the hand with the mirror in it fall to my side and turn to Robards. I can hardly remember at this point if he knows that we know as much as we do - but it doesn't matter anymore. "Talitha's dead," I say bluntly. "She tried to use Slytherin's time-stopping device, and it killed her. Ron said it was like an earthquake outside when it happened - and Hermione thinks we ought to check the ceiling for cracks."

A curious mixture of emotions plays over Robards' face. "I see," he says, with admirable self-control.

I step out from under the Cloak and hold my wand to the ceiling. It appears to have been carved out of solid rock - I can't tell what's a crack and what's just a natural fissure. Only isn't that one getting wider? I rise up on my toes for a better look.

"Mr. Potter!" Robards snaps. "Don't be ridiculous!"

I hardly hear him. It's definitely getting bigger - and now there's an ominous rumbling that seems to come from within the walls of the castle. A shower of dust covers us. Without thinking, I cast a Patronus and send it winging back toward the entrance to warn the others.

Robards is looking warily at the ceiling now. "Come on," I tell him. "We'd better run for it!" I've nearly been trapped by an avalanche once before and I'm not anxious for another go.

Robards' lips are moving, and I see him trying to cast a spell on the ceiling. I know he's good, but that seems to be a bit much. I tug frantically at his cloak, dropping it at once when he turns his icy stare on me. "We have to go!" I say again. "We'll be killed if that comes down on us."

"An Auror does not desert his post," Robards says coldly. "Go if you wish, Mr. Potter. I will remain here and carry out the rest of our mission."

I can't quite bring myself to leave him here, even though I think he's completely lost it. It'd be the same as leaving him to die. There's only one thing to do. I say a silent goodbye to my future in the Aurors before waiting for Robards to turn his back on me again. And then I raise my wand and point it at him.

_"Imperio,"_ I whisper.

He follows me as obediently as a small child after that. We're still a few feet from the entrance when the rumbling gets louder and chunks of rock start hitting the floor around us. "Run!" I say, and Robards breaks unquestioningly into a run. We barely make it out in time.

Kingsley's hands are pulling me through the door. "Get away from the castle!" he shouts.

Robards stands still, staring at nothing. "Come on," I tell him in a low voice. "We've got to get away." And I've got to lift the Imperious Curse - but not till I know he won't turn round and go running back in.

I glance up to see Hermione watching me closely. "Everyone spread out," Kingsley's ordering. "They'll be trying to escape - I don't suppose you had a chance to put that Anti-Apparition Charm on?"

I shake my head mutely. Kingsley looks sharply at Robards. "Gawain?" he says loudly. "Are you all right?"

_"Finite incantem,"_ I say silently, and wait for Robards to kill me.

**Hermione**

I wouldn't normally approve of Harry using an Unforgiveable Curse on Gawain Robards, but under the circumstances I suppose there was nothing else to be done. I heard him say _"Imperio"_ through the mirror, which Harry rather conveniently forgot to put away. Robards can't be allowed to find out, though - it'd be just like him to send Harry to prison or something, when Harry was only trying to save his life.

Kingsley and the others are all looking at Robards now - it's rather obvious that something's wrong with him. I nudge Ron. "Distract them!" I whisper.

"Neville, what did you do with the three you captured earlier?" Ron asks. Neville looks surprised - he wasn't the one who captured them - but everyone's looking at him anyway. I take the opportunity to point my wand at the back of Robards' head.

_"Obliviate,"_ I say silently.

I can tell right away that it worked. The angry lines on Robards' face smooth out and he looks around, mildly baffled. "Kingsley?" he says. "What are you doing here?"

Kingsley turns round at once. "What the hell happened to him?" he says to Harry. "Did one of those rocks fall on his head or something?"

"I think it was the air," Harry says. "We probably shouldn't have taken our masks off."

"He'll be all right after some fresh air," I say quickly. "Maybe he'd better sit down or something."

Kingsley's already turning back to the others. "Neville, take Charlie and George and go around toward the front," he orders. "You, there - sorry, I don't know your name - take two people and go in the opposite direction."

"It's Michael," Michael Corner says. "Come on, Susan, you and Ernie can come with me."

Kingsley disperses the rest and turns back to us. "Harry, stay here with three others and guard this entrance and the rest come with me," he says. "Ron, you'd better stay here with that leg."

"I'll stay with him," I say quickly, and Kingsley grins at me.

"I never dreamed of asking you to do anything else," he says solemnly. "Mind you keep an eye on Gawain, too."

I wonder if Robards is supposed to make the fourth person - he doesn't seem as though he's going to be of much use - but Ginny slips her arm through Harry's as he starts toward us.

Kingsley gathers his remaining Aurors and takes off at a run. "We'd better have two on each side of the door," Harry directs. "Mind you keep a few feet back from the castle - I'm not sure how sturdy this wall is." He catches my eye and adds "And thanks, Hermione."

"Thanks for what?" Ginny asks curiously, but I shake my head and then look significantly at Robards.

Not that he's paying much attention to us. Oh dear, I hope I didn't make the charm too strong. I'll never forgive myself if he ends up like Lockheart.

"Sir?" Ron says. "Hadn't you better sit down?"

Robards blinks. "No, I'm quite all right," he says vaguely. He stares at Ron, suddenly seeming to see him. "Mr. Weasley?" he says. "What just happened?"

"I wasn't there," Ron says apologetically. "All I know is, you all went in there -" he points to the door - "and then you barely made it out after the earthquake."

Something flickers in Robards' eyes. "I remember now," he says. "I was going to cast an Anti-Apparition Charm, and then you contacted Mr. Potter through a mirror and said Talitha was dead, and - then it's all a blank."

"It was the air," Ginny says kindly. "The same thing happened to me. At least you didn't faint!" She grins at him, and after a minute he almost smiles back.

"No, there is that to be thankful for," he says gravely.

I decide Robards has done quite enough remembering and change the subject firmly. "If Talitha's dead, they haven't got a leader," I say. "Unless Rodolphus Lestrange shows up."

"Lestrange is dead as well," Robards answers. "One of my Aurors brought me the news earlier."

Well, he might have shared that with the rest of us. Harry and I exchange indignant looks. "Oh," I say. "Well, in that case - "

"Sebastian Flint remains at large," Robards interrupts. "So do Parkinson, Pucey, Zabini - and the others who were inside."

"You'll find Flint tied up in a cupboard on the stair landing," Ron says. His voice is perfectly polite, but he throws me a wink when I look at him.

"Ah," Robards says, clearly surprised at this development. "Well done, Mr. Weasley. I see that your short time in the Auror Department was not completely wasted after all."

While I'm still trying to figure out if this means Ron's time in the Auror Department is over or whether it means something else entirely, Robards speaks again.

"It was most unfortunate that I didn't have time to put that Anti-Apparition Charm on," he says. "With no one in command, as you said, Mrs. Weasley, - " he nods at me again - "they are likely to scatter in all directions."

Ginny looks thoughtful. "What if Talitha herself commanded them to stay in one place?" she asks.

"Well, she can't, obviously," Ron says impatiently. "Seeing as she's dead and can't talk."

Ginny grins at him. "Can't she?" she asks, in a perfect imitation of Talitha's voice. "I think you'll find she can say anything you want her to."

Harry stares at her, mouth open. "I'll tell you what to say, and you repeat it," he says hoarsely, recovering. "No, wait!" He leans forward and touches her throat lightly with his wand. _"Sonorus!"_

Ginny's voice, magnified by a thousand, seems to reach every corner of the island.

**Draco**

Kreacher drops me rather unceremoniously at the foot of the cliff and immediately vanishes again. There are no boats to be seen, naturally - I suppose you've got to do some sort of charm to get one - but I don't mind very much. The rest of them are going to have to leave here eventually, and they're just going to have to bring me with them. As long as I'm not inside the clock tower when it collapses, I don't much mind what happens.

I'm not even alarmed when I realize I'm not alone. There's someone sitting on a rock, down near the beach. I move silently closer and recognize Zabini.

He looks up as I approach. "Hello, Malfoy," he says, apparently unconcerned.

"Zabini," I say shortly.

Zabini makes no answer. Anyone else at this point might be slightly worried about the fact that that last time they'd seen me, they'd jinxed me into unconsciousness and helped a wanted criminal escape - but Zabini's not like anyone else. I sit down on the rock next to him and wait for him to speak again.

"Talitha's dead," he says, after a long silence.

"I know," I say uncomfortably. "I'm sorry." I'm not sorry she's dead, but I am a little sorry for Zabini. I know how he feels, after all.

Zabini shrugs and looks out over the water. "It was bound to happen one way or another," he says. "She was one of those people who are never satisfied."

I can't think of a good answer for this. "How did you know?" I ask finally. He can't have been down here for very long.

"I heard Weasley telling his Mudblood wife," Zabini answers. "I didn't think there was any need to see for myself."

"No, of course not," I say hastily, although it strikes me that I wouldn't take Weasley's word for anything. "What else was happening, did you see?"

"Potter and the Aurors were going in after that lot who'd gathered in the underground graveyard," Zabini says indifferently. "It won't be long now, I expect."

"Hadn't you better hide or something?" I suggest. I wouldn't give him away, even now, and Zabini knows it.

He looks slightly amused at my question. "My dear Malfoy, whatever for?" he asks. "I have no desire to stay on this bloody rock any longer than I have to."

"You might end up staying here a lot longer than you'd bargained for if the Aurors get hold of you," I warn. "They'll probably throw you in a cell."

"Why?" Zabini asks. "I haven't done anything wrong."

I stare at him, staggered.

Zabini smiles. "Go on, name one thing I've done that would get me sent to prison," he says.

"You helped Talitha escape," I point out at once.

"Did I?" Zabini asks. "Did you see me do it?"

"Of course not," I say, irritated. "I was unconscious."

"Precisely," Zabini says. "So if I told you that Talitha woke up on her own from whatever spell she was under, fired off a curse, and grabbed me as a hostage - well, you'd have no way of knowing if I were telling the truth or not, would you?"

"The house-elves," I start, but they were unconscious too. And I'm not sure if their testimony's admissible before the Wizengamut, anyway. Probably not - they'll say anything, won't they? I look at Zabini with reluctant admiration. "You must have done _some_ things," I say. "They wouldn't have kept you around otherwise."

"No, nothing," Zabini says. "Well, I put the Imperius Curse on the Edgecombe girl, but she thought up most of the things to do to Granger all on her own." He looks almost impressed, remembering. "Really, we could have used her on our side - quite a nasty little imagination. No skill at all, though - they caught her almost immediately."

"You Imperiused Edgecombe's daughter?" I say, grinning in spite of myself. "The ugly one?"

"If you tell anyone, I'll deny it," Zabini warns.

"I won't," I say at once. There's no love lost between me and the Edgecombes. "But you've got to tell me the whole story some time."

Zabini brightens. "Why not over a drink in Paris?" he asks. "I think this might be a good time to go and visit Mother."

"Paris sounds good," I say with a sigh. Anywhere but here sounds good.

Zabini yawns and looks at his watch. "Taking rather a long time about it, aren't they? What do you suppose they're doing up there?"

I shrug. "Fighting," I offer. I'm glad to be out of it. It's strangely peaceful, just sitting here with Zabini and waiting for everything to be over. I don't let myself think that they might not win out. Potter always wins - we all ought to know that by now.

It comes as a shock when we hear Talitha's voice.

**Harry**

"You have just seen a demonstration of the power of Salazar Slytherin," Ginny repeats obediently. I'm so close to her that my ears are ringing, but I can't stop now.

"The time has come to destroy our enemies," I whisper. "Those of you who are brave enough to join me must step one by one through the doorway into the corridor beyond. There you will find a door leading to the outside. I will await you there."

Ginny says her piece and then looks at me inquiringly.

_"Quietus,"_ I whisper, touching my wand to her throat. I look at Robards. "How long do you think you can keep the ceiling from falling down completely?"

"Possibly as long as ten minutes at the outside," Robards says, keeping his wand trained on the entrance. "I trust that Talitha's followers will waste no time in joining us." He turns his back on us completely and I can see his lips moving again. Now all we have to do is wait.

In the end, it's almost anticlimactic. The witch who was with Flint upstairs is first. I Stun her neatly and Locomotor her to one side as an unfamiliar looking wizard appears in the doorway. I nod at Ron, and he takes him down easily.

Kingsley and the others are arriving now, but we've got this already. Kingsley gives me a nod and watches as we finish them off one by one.

"I count eleven," Perdita says presently. "How many of them were there to begin with - does anyone know for sure?"

"We've got Lavender and Seamus still guarding three that we caught earlier," George offers. "That makes fourteen - fifteen with Flint." He nods at Ron, who grins back at him.

"Parkinson and Pucey weren't inside," I say. "They've got to be hiding somewhere."

"Will we look?" Neville asks me. I start to answer and then glance involuntarily at Robards.

Kingsley looks at me thoughtfully. "Quite an army you've got here, Harry," he says.

I can't think of any response. It almost makes me feel, suddenly, like I've been going behind Robards' back. Which I suppose I have, actually, but not because I thought I could do a better job. It was only because he didn't trust me.

"We'd better do a sweep of the castle and grounds to make sure, and then please let's get out of here," Perdita says briskly. "I've had enough of this place to last me. Do you suppose it's all right, locking them up in the cells?"

Hestia, joining us, looks at her blankly. "Well, they're bound to end up there eventually," she points out.

"I meant Azkaban itself," Perdita explains. "Do you suppose there's any structural damage?"

"It can be mended," Robards says, speaking for the first time since the Death Eaters started coming out of the doorway. He has a sort of stunned look on his face. "I have already begun the repair work." He looks past us at someone. "What is it, Lurleen?"

"I can't find Draco," Lurleen says anxiously. "We left him in the clock tower, but he's gone!"

In the clock tower? That must have been something, when the earthquake hit. "He probably Disapparated," I say. "I would have."

"He hasn't got a wand," Lurleen says, looking worried.

"Harry?" Dean says, coming up. "Ernie just sent me a Patronus saying he'd spotted Malfoy and Zabini down by the shore. He wants to know what to do with them."

"Nothing," I say. "Just keep a close eye on them." I flush, realizing I've just done it again, and turn hastily to Robards. "If that's quite all right?" I add.

He gives me the same sort of thoughtful look that Kingsley did a minute ago. "I think that will be fine," he says after a moment. "Lurleen, please accompany both Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini to their respective homes and caution them against leaving London," he orders.

"It'll be a pleasure," Lurleen says, grinning at him. "I won't be sorry to say goodbye to Narcissa, I can tell you!"

Robards is already turning to the rest of his Aurors. "The Warden and his guards will assist you in placing the prisoners in cells for the time being," he tells them. "Once we've ascertained that no other Death Eaters remain on the island, you may return home - and thank you all for a job well done."

"Don't forget about Flint," Ron says to Perdita.

"I'll see you back at the Ministry after I've finished here," she whispers.

Ron looks startled. "The Ministry?" he echoes. "Can't we go home?"

"No, Mr. Weasley, you cannot," Robards says coldly. "I shall wish to see you and Mr. Potter in my office as soon as we return to shore."

Ron's eyes meet mine for a second. He looks as sick as I feel at the prospect. 

**Ron**

The trip back is a nightmare. Hermione and I huddle close together, trying to keep warm. I keep one arm around her and the other hand clinging desperately to the side of the boat. The water's a lot rougher than it was on the way out - probably the after-effects of the earthquake - and between the way it's bouncing my knee around and the way it's bouncing my stomach around, I'll count myself damned lucky not to be seasick before we get to shore.

The one saving grace is that Robards isn't in our boat. He's up ahead, with Lurleen, Malfoy and Zabini. _At least I'm not Malfoy,_ I think, but even that doesn't cheer me up much.

Ginny turns from her seat in the bow to look at me. "You look sort of green," she remarks. "You're not going to be sick, are you?"

_Thanks a lot, Ginny._ "No," I say between my teeth.

Hermione pats my uninjured leg. "Not much further," she whispers soothingly, even though it's miles. I can tell she's dying to get me home so she can fuss over me. I'm looking forward to that myself, to be honest. "And I think we ought to go to St. Mungo's and have that knee seen to properly after we finish with Robards," she adds.

If there's anything left of me after Robards finishes with us, I will. Thinking of Robards reminds me of something. I reach into my pocket and find it - the small golden sphere I took from Talitha's dead hand. I don't like having it - it reminds me of the locket Horcrux. It doesn't seem to affect me in the same way - I know Hermione loves me and all that - but I still don't like touching it. Anyway, I might lose it. I nudge Harry.

"What do you reckon we ought to do with this?" I whisper. Maybe we ought to give it to Robards, but somehow I don't like the idea of that either.

Harry looks at it for a long moment. "Pitch it over the side," he says firmly.

"What, now?" I ask, looking nervously at the boat with Robards in it. He's at least a hundred yards ahead, but still…

"Now," Harry says.

I stretch my hand over the side of the boat and let my fingers open. The golden ball disappears without a splash.

Suddenly I feel better. I look back over my shoulder, but none of the other boats are close enough to have seen. Harry looks from me to Hermione. "That's just between us," he says quietly. "All right?"

"What time-stopping device?" I say. "I never saw it."

Harry grins at me, satisfied, and turns back to Ginny.

"Oh my goodness," Hermione says suddenly. "We forgot all about the prisoners at the Hog's Head. We can't just leave them there."

Harry mutters something that usually earns me an elbow in the ribs from Hermione. I look at her, but she doesn't even bat an eye. "Why is it always all right when _he_ says it?" I whisper indignantly.

Hermione ignores me, but there's a muffled snort from Ginny. "We'll have to tell Robards as soon as we land," Harry says resignedly. "He'll probably want to take them all straight to Azkaban."

I hope he doesn't want us to come along. One more trip on this boat will finish me off entirely. I tighten my arm around Hermione's shoulders and drop a kiss on her head. "Almost there," I whisper to her. It's still not exactly true this time, either, but when I think about what's waiting for us on shore, I almost wish this trip would never end.

**Hermione**

Harry waits until Lurleen's been dispatched with Malfoy and Zabini before bringing it up. Robards looks at us all expressionlessly as Harry stumbles through an explanation.

"I see," he says, cutting Harry off in mid-sentence. He turns to Ron. "So this wedding reception of yours was intended to draw out Talitha and her followers," he says accusingly. "Did it not occur to you that it might have been a good idea to inform the Aurors beforehand?"

"We would have," Ron says. "If there'd been any Aurors around to inform. Everyone was at Azkaban except us and Persimmon."

"Because you, Mr. Weasley, were suspended from duty!" Robards says sharply.

Ron's ears turn red. "We managed to capture some of the attackers," I interject, before he can say something he'll regret later. "You'll find them in the store room at the Hog's Head."

Robards looks slightly taken aback but recovers quickly. "I see," he says again. He turns from us abruptly and walk a few steps down the beach. I see a silver streak erupt from his wand and vanish over the sea.

I take the opportunity to slip my hand into Ron's. "Don't let him get to you," I whisper to both him and Harry. "It'll only make things worse."

"Perdita will join us shortly," Robards says, returning. Without any further explanation, he looks back at Ron.

"Now, Mr. Weasley," he says, in an abrupt change of subject. "You said Talitha chose to activate the device in front of you and your wife, thus causing her own demise."

"Yeah," Ron says warily.

Robards frowns. "Did this not strike you as unusual?" he asks. "Her original plan, I believe, was to transport her followers back to the Battle of Hogwarts before attempting to stop time. Why, then, would she have tried to stop time during the present?"

Oh no. That was my fault. I start to speak, but Ron squeezes my hand warningly. "She didn't have a Time Turner anymore," he answers. "She was spying on us before - she knew Perdita'd taken the ones Flint had. I think she meant to stop time just long enough to take Hermione's Time-Turner and use it to go back to the Battle."

Robards looks skeptical. "Alone?" he asks.

"She thought she could _stop time_," Ron points out. "If we were all frozen, she could have killed the lot of us one by one. She didn't need anyone helping her."

"Hmm," Robards says noncommittally, although I think myself that it's a very good point. "Where is the device now?"

Ron shrugs. "She must've dropped it," he offers. "Or maybe it was destroyed when she used it."

Robards stares at him. Ron meets his gaze blandly.

"And why did she believe you had a Time-Turner, Mrs. Weasley?" Robards asks sharply. His eyes bore into mine.

"She probably saw it when she Stunned Hermione on that landing," Ron says, answering for me again. "I'll bet she meant to come back for it later."

"Your wife is perfectly capable of answering my questions!" Robards snaps at him.

"Actually, I'm not," I say, managing to sound apologetic. "I'm so exhausted that I hardly know what I'm saying."

Harry looks over at me, startled - I don't suppose he's ever heard me say I was too tired to _talk_ before - but mercifully doesn't comment. Robards looks from me to Ginny, and his gaze softens.

"Someone's coming," Ginny interrupts. I look in the direction she's pointing and see a shape flying quickly over the water. Perdita?

"Look, she's got a broom," Ron whispers to me, sounding annoyed. "No one ever said you could _fly_ to Azkaban."

Robards fortunately misses this, since I'm sure he would have taken the opportunity to point out that we weren't supposed to be at Azkaban at all. He moves forward quickly and takes Perdita aside before she can do more than wave at the rest of us.

What now, I wonder? Maybe she's coming to the Hog's Head with us. But Robards' next words make it clear we're not included.

"Perdita will escort you and your wife to your home, Mr. Weasley," he says. "Mr. Potter, you will accompany me to the Hog's Head at once."

"We can get home on our own," Ron protests.

"Can you, Mr. Weasley?" Robards asks coldly. "Or will you perhaps be tempted to make yet another unauthorized side-trip?"

Perdita throws us an apologetic look over Robards' shoulder. "What about Ginny?" she asks Robards.

"I'm going with Harry," Ginny says at once.

"Miss Weasley, you are not an Auror," Robards tells her sternly.

"No," Ginny agrees cheerfully. "But Aberforth isn't going to let just anyone take those prisoners. He can be a bit difficult, you know. You'll have a lot more success if you bring someone he likes - and he likes me."

Perdita grins. "He doesn't like _you_, Gawain, he's made that plain enough!" she says. "Maybe you'd better take her along."

Robards looks like there are several things he wants to say, but evidently he thinks better of it. "Fine," he says through clenched teeth. "Bring Mr. and Mrs. Weasley home," he tells Perdita. "Mr. Weasley, I want to see you in my office at four o'clock tomorrow afternoon. We will discuss your future plans - or lack thereof - at that time." He nods at us coldly. "That will be all."

Oh dear - that doesn't sound very good, does it? I throw him a pleading look, but he refuses to meet my eyes. "Come on," Ron says in a low voice. "Let's go home."

Perdita's still talking to Robards, so we have to wait. At last he Disapparates, with Harry and Ginny close behind.

"We can get home without you," Ron tells Perdita. "Go on back to Azkaban if you want."

"If it's all the same to you, I think I've had enough of that place to last me!" Perdita says. "And I'm not bringing you home - I'm bringing you to St. Mungo's. I want Marvin to have a look at that knee."

"My knee's all right," Ron protests, even though it's quite obvious that it isn't. His face is white and he winces every time he takes a step.

"Stop arguing," I tell him firmly. "Perdita's right."

"I'd rather like to see Marvin myself," Perdita admits. "He's probably been frantic, these past few days."

I hold Ron back as we enter the waiting area of St. Mungo's a few minutes later. "Maybe we ought to give them a moment alone first," I whisper.

"What for?" Ron whispers back.

Honestly. But it's too late - a man in lime-green robes is running toward us. He sweeps Perdita into his arms without a word. He looks rather familiar, but it's a minute before I recognize him.

"Why, Healer McGillicuddy!" I say, surprised. I never thought of him being Perdita's Marvin, but then again, I didn't know his first name.

Healer McGillicuddy stops kissing Perdita and turns around to stare at me with equal surprise. "Miss Granger!" he exclaims. "What are you doing here?"

"You two know each other?" Perdita asks.

We explain, and I introduce Marvin to Ron. "Ah, the knee injury," he says, suddenly all business. "Let's have a look."

"I think it's a bit swollen," Ron says, dropping down on a nearby bench. "That cast feels like it's about to burst - only I'm not sure I can walk without it."

"You'll feel better once we get rid of it," Marvin says, drawing his wand lightly down the sides of the plaster so that it splits open. "And I hope these aren't your favorite jeans - but maybe they can be mended." He slices the fabric neatly, using the same wand motion as before.

Not by either of us, they can't. Maybe Kreacher can fix them. I lean forward to see. Goodness, no wonder the plaster felt tight - the knee's swollen to twice its normal size.

Marvin hears my gasp and grins at me reassuringly. "It looks much worse than it is," he says. "And you were quite right, Perdita - it was dislocated. You've managed to put it back nicely, though."

Perdita beams. "Wait'll I tell you how - " she starts and then stops abruptly, blushing.

"I already know," Ron tells her.

"I think it's very helpful that you know first-aid, Perdita," I say quickly. Perdita grins at me over Ron's head.

Marvin does something complicated with his wand, and a look of relief spreads over Ron's face. "It feels a lot better," he says, flexing the knee carefully. "Thanks."

"Stay off it for the next few hours, and rub this on before you go to bed," Marvin says, handing him a small jar.

"You don't want to jinx me or anything first?" Ron asks.

Marvin looks confused. "I was surprised you didn't know any Healer charms," Perdita says to me hastily. "What on earth did you do last year while you were traveling all around the wilderness?"

"We just slapped dittany on everything," Ron answers.

"Dittany's good, but it won't help a dislocated knee," Marvin says. "They'll teach you basic Healing in the Aurors, though - it comes next year, doesn't it, Perdita?"

Perdita looks uncomfortable. "I'll teach you," she says to Ron. "No matter what - er - happens."

"Yeah," Ron says. He starts to reach for his money bag, but Marvin waves him off.

"I'm off-duty, so this doesn't count," he assures us. "Just a little favor between friends. Well, it's been nice to meet you properly - and we really must have that drink one of these days - but just now I think Perdita needs some rest," Marvin says, shaking hands with both of us. "Come on, love, you look exhausted." He puts an arm around Perdita and shepherds her in the direction of the exit.

"I'll talk to Gawain, Ron, I promise!" she calls over Marvin's shoulder. The door closes behind them.

I slip my hand into Ron's. "We need some rest, too," I say gently, urging him toward the door. He's walking much better than he was a few minutes ago - Marvin's spell must have helped.

Ron looks at me sideways. "Do you think we ought to go to the Hog's Head?" he asks. "They might need - "

"No," I say firmly. "We're in enough trouble already. Let's just go home."

**Harry**

Most of Hogsmeade is dark, but there's a light on at the Hog's Head. I send a Patronus winging into the pub, and after a few minutes Aberforth unbolts the door and glares out at us suspiciously.

"Prove you're Harry," he says at once.

"I know who Aloysius really is," I tell him.

Aberforth steps back and allows me and Ginny to enter, but puts out a hand when Robards starts to follow us.

"I never said _he_ could come in," he snaps.

"I am here as an official representative of the Auror Department!" Robards says angrily.

Aberforth looks unimpressed. "Ah, let him in, Ab," Ginny says coaxingly. "He's come to take those prisoners off your hands."

"Only for you," Aberforth says to Ginny, standing aside reluctantly. "And I hope you're going to take those damned elves off my hands, too. I can't have them bustling about wanting to clean everything!"

"No, certainly not," Robards says icily, moving a cobweb aside with his wand.

Aberforth ignores him. "Here we are," he says, unbolting the door to the store room. Two house-elves look up anxiously as we enter, and I nod at them reassuringly. The four prisoners are tied up just the way we left them - only by now the Polyjuice has worn off. I recognize Goyle and Evelinda Snodgrass, but I can't tell who the others are. Robards knows them, though - I can tell by the triumphant look on his face.

"Very well done indeed, Mr. Potter," he says, sounding almost approving.

Ginny squeezes my hand, but I don't dare to feel too hopeful. I have a feeling I've gone too far this time. "Will we take them to Azkaban now?" I ask Robards. I can't think of anyplace I'd rather go less, but it's got to be done.

"No, I shall send for some of my Aurors to escort them," Robards answers, pulling out his wand. Even through my relief, I don't miss the slight emphasis he puts on the phrase "my Aurors".

"You look all in, Missy," Aberforth says to Ginny. "Will you have a drink before you go?"

"I'd love a cup of tea," Ginny says gratefully. "If we've time?" She looks inquiringly at Robards, but he doesn't seem to hear her.

"We have to wait for the Aurors," I say. "Go on, Ginny."

One of the house-elves springs to its feet. "If it's tea you're wanting, Miss - " it starts.

"Both of you go on home," Aberforth says to them hastily. "We don't need you anymore tonight."

The elves hesitate, looking at me. "Off you go," Robards says sternly.

"Thank you for your help," I tell the house-elves. "You've been amazing."

They bow and nod and finally Disapparate. Ginny follows Aberforth out of the store room, looking back at me over her shoulder as she goes.

Robards waits for them to disappear before he speaks. "There is no need for you and Miss Weasley to remain, Mr. Potter," he says. "I shall expect you tomorrow afternoon along with Mr. Weasley."

"Right," I say, edging toward the door. I'm almost there when Robards speaks again.

"What I find interesting, Mr. Potter," he says coldly, "is that at no time in the past several months did you think it important to inform the Auror Department of any of the developments you had uncovered."

He's got a point there - but so do I.

"Just a question," I say. "If we _had_ informed the Auror Department, what would you have done?"

"We would have acted on whatever information we received as deemed necessary," Robards replies coldly.

Meaning he would have kept us out of it after that. "And what about us?" I ask, just to make sure. "Me and Ron?"

"You and Mr. Weasley were trainees, Mr. Potter," Robards says. "Trainees are not normally included in decisions of this nature - and they do not take action independently."

Yeah. Only the thing is - we did. "We didn't mean to do everything on our own," I start haltingly, but he doesn't let me finish.

"You were each assigned a partner," Robards says. "You, Mr. Potter, were supposed to be mine. I realize that your past - er - adventures did not take place under my jurisdiction, but I certainly expected that you would put your trust in me after joining my Department."

The word "adventures" bothers me. It's like he thinks watching the people I loved die was one big party. "It wasn't - " I start again, but again he interrupts me.

"Partners in the Auror Department must be able to trust each other with their lives," he informs me. "I regret to say, Mr. Potter, that I'm not entirely sure I would trust you with mine."

Ironic, that, considering I saved his life tonight and he'll never know it. "Because you never treated me like a partner," I say hotly. "You never even treated me like a real Auror! It was like I was just some annoying kid you got stuck minding!"

The look on Robards' face is forbidding, but I'm past caring. It doesn't matter what I say anymore.

"I wanted to learn from _you_!" I say, my voice rising. "You were supposed to be the best! But when I saw that you didn't trust me - well, it made me not trust you either!"

"I see," Robards says icily. "Is there anything else you'd care to say before you leave, Mr. Potter?"

What the hell. "Yeah," I say. "You ought to let Persimmon be an Auror again. She's too good to waste her time keeping track of everyone's holidays and fetching your tea."

I turn and leave the store room before he can say anything else. I have a feeling I've just blown it for myself - but then again, I don't think anything I said or didn't say back there would have made a difference. Robards has been looking for a chance to get rid of me ever since Kingsley shoved me down his throat.

**Ron**

Hermione and I knew we ought to wait up for Harry and Ginny to get back, but we didn't see any reason why we couldn't go ahead and shower - we were both covered with dirt from that earthquake. And there wasn't any point in getting dressed again at three in the morning, so we put on our pajamas after. And then Winky offered to bring a tray up…

"We really should have eaten downstairs," Hermione says guiltily as I hand her a plate.

"Why?" I argue. "We can stay awake just as well here, and anyway, Marvin said to stay off my knee."

Hermione looks down anxiously. "Is it all right?" she asks. "Do you want another pillow?"

"It's fine," I tell her. "Pass the cream cakes."

"I don't know how you can eat those on top of scrambled eggs," Hermione says, but I don't see why not.

"Winky'd be upset if I didn't eat them," I point out.

"You were awfully sweet, asking her to make them," Hermione says approvingly.

I'm not sure it was _sweet_, exactly - it was just the only thing I could think of to make her stop crying and banging her head on the floor. As near as we could make out, Winky blames herself for Talitha escaping, even though Hermione and I both told her it wasn't her fault. The only thing that calmed her down was when I got the idea to ask her to make the cakes for me. Still, if Hermione wants to think it was sweet of me...

"Yeah, well," I say modestly.

Hermione leans over and kisses me. "And I'm glad Balto's all right," she says with a sigh.

I never would've thought to ask Winky about Balto, but I'm not about to admit it now that she thinks I'm sweet and all. "Yeah," I say again, helping myself to another cake.

"If you're finished, I'll send the tray down," Hermione says, getting up.

"Leave it outside the door," I say, even though I know she won't.

"I'll Locomotor it from the stairs," Hermione says. "It won't take a minute."

I grab the last cake before she disappears with the tray. Hermione rolls her eyes at me as she goes.

Once she's gone, though, I seem to lose my appetite. All I can think about is how I'm going to lose my job tomorrow. And then what am I going to do? I can't let Hermione support us, but I can't think of any other job I'd be suited for, either. I've never wanted to be anything but an Auror. Except when I was a kid and I wanted to be Captain of the Chudley Cannons, but that's about as likely as Kingsley asking me to step in as Minister of Magic. Maybe George would take me on full-time in the shop - only I'm not exactly going to get rich doing that. Hermione and I can't go on living in Harry's spare bedroom for the rest of our lives. I heard what Muriel said…

"Harry's back," Hermione says, coming in. "They didn't have to go back to Azkaban - he said someone was coming for the prisoners."

"We might as well go to sleep, then," I say, even though I'm not sure I can with all this on my mind.

"Your knee," Hermione reminds me. "What did you do with that little jar Marvin gave you?"

No idea. "_Accio_ Marvin's jar," I say hopefully. I manage to catch it as it comes flying out of the pocket of my jacket.

Which is on the floor, along with the rest of my clothes. I wait for Hermione to yell at me, but instead she sits down on the foot of the bed and holds out her hand for the jar. "I'll do it if you like," she offers.

I hand it over promptly and lean back against the pillows. "It looks a lot better," Hermione says, pushing up the leg of my pajamas. "The swelling's gone down quite a bit." She leans down and kisses my knee. For a minute I think she's starting something, but then she takes the lid off the jar. Just as well - I can hardly keep my eyes open.

Hermione starts spreading cream over my knee, neatly and carefully. It feels amazing - like my knee's suddenly been dropped into a hot bath. "You didn't have to lie for me, you know," she says, not looking up. "It was lovely of you, but I'm afraid Robards wasn't satisfied with the answer."

"I didn't lie," I say. "I just thought there were some things no one else needed to know. And if he's not satisfied, maybe you'll just have to do another Memory Charm on him."

She does look up this time, and I grin at her. "We're going to be married for the rest of our lives," I tell her. "There're going to be a lot of things we need to keep just between the two of us."

Hermione smiles back at me. "Harry seemed a bit upset when he came in," she remarks. "You don't suppose he had it out with Robards, do you?"

I think about it. "It's sort of been coming for a long time," I tell her. "It'll be all right, though. Robards wouldn't dare sack Harry. He's _Harry Potter_ - he's famous."

"So are we - a little," Hermione says.

"He won't mind sacking me," I assure her. "It's not the same."

"We're going to be all right," Hermione says, but I don't see how.

"Yeah, I know," I say, mostly because I don't feel like talking about it.

Hermione gives me a worried look, but luckily doesn't pursue it. "Feel if my hair's dry yet," she says instead. "My hands are all over cream."

I sit up and have a feel. "Not even close," I tell her.

"I'm too tired to dry it," Hermione says, yawning. "I think it'll be all right if I just spread a towel over the pillow."

Yeah - except Hermione likes me to spoon her, and I don't fancy having a mass of sopping hair plastered against my chest. "I'll dry it for you," I offer.

Hermione looks at me dubiously. "I don't suppose it matters," she says after a minute. "I can always fix it in the morning."

Well, thanks for the vote of confidence. Just for that, I refuse to ask her how to make hot air come out of my wand even though it takes me about six tries to get it right.

"You have to keep brushing it," Hermione warns, turning her back to me and shaking out her hair. "Otherwise it gets all fluffy."

"I know," I say, even though I don't. "I've seen you dry it about a million times." Which is true, but it never looked this complicated. I can hardly get the brush through it. There ought to be some sort of untangling charm or -

I take a quick look at Hermione to make sure she's still busy with my knee and then gather up her hair in one hand and shoot a Relaxing Charm into it with the other. It seems to help. The brush glides through smoothly - but her hair suddenly seems a lot longer. And there's a lot less of it. Oh, bloody hell - she's going to kill me.

Well, maybe it'll puff up a bit as it dries. But the hot air's only making it straighter.

"There," Hermione says, oblivious. "Does it feel better now?"

"Huh?" I say. "Oh - yeah. It feels a lot better."

"Let's get some sleep, then," Hermione says, unrolling my pajama leg and sending the jar of cream zooming off to her dressing table. "My hair must be dry by now."

"It is," I say, tucking it carefully behind her shoulders. "Come to bed." Maybe she won't notice if she goes right to sleep. Or maybe it'll fix itself in the night.

"I just have to wash my hands," Hermione answers.

"Wipe them on my pajamas," I say desperately. I don't want her anywhere near the bathroom mirror.

Hermione laughs and gets up. "It won't take me a second - " she starts, and then freezes as a strand of hair falls forward into her face.

Here we go. "What did you do?" Hermione asks in a strange voice. I cringe as she hurries to the dressing table, staring at herself in the mirror with wide eyes.

"It's gorgeous," Hermione breathes, turning so she can see herself properly. "Ron, you're amazing!"

"All I did was brush it like you said," I say, weak with relief.

Hermione leans over and kisses me. "I can never get it like this, even with Sleekeazy's Hair Potion," she says. "You can always dry my hair from now on!"

"Great," I say. "Maybe I can get a job as a hairdresser after I get sacked from the Aurors."

Hermione looks at me. "Ron," she starts.

"Yeah?" I say, gritting my teeth and waiting for it. Hermione has a knack for saying precisely the most irritating thing in the world in a misguided attempt to make me feel better. Back when we were younger I always used to snap back at her, and we'd end up in a fight. Now I understand that she means well - but it's still annoying as hell. I brace myself.

But Hermione doesn't say a word. She just reaches for me silently and I wrap both arms around her gratefully. Then again, sometimes Hermione's just about perfect. I fit my mouth over hers before she can wreck it by talking.

**Harry**

I scarcely remember Apparating Home, which probably isn't a good thing, but we get there all right. Grimmauld Place seems oddly the same, although I can't think why I expected it to be any different. Kreacher's waiting in the hall, with Winky hovering uncertainly behind him.

"Kreacher's master must eat," he says at once, beaming at me. "Kreacher will serve dinner at once, sir."

"Winky will serve dinner, too," Winky mutters, looking at the floor.

Kreacher ignores this. "Would Harry Potter like to eat in the dining room?" he asks me.

The dining room at Grimmauld Place is daunting even under the most cheerful of circumstances. "Would you mind bringing something on a tray to the sitting room?" I ask. "It doesn't have to be anything special - just sandwiches or something."

Kreacher's expression shows what he thinks of sandwiches. "Kreacher will bring something _nice_, sir," he says firmly. "And perhaps a bottle of wine, sir?"

"Yeah, all right," I say, wondering how he can bring himself to go into the wine-cellar again. Maybe he doesn't mind.

"Harry, you're back!" Hermione says from behind me. "Was everything all right? Did you have to go back to Azkaban?"

I turn to see her halfway down the stairs. A tray laden with empty dishes is hovering in the air next to her.

"Everything's fine," I say. "Robards sent for some Aurors to get the prisoners."

"I'll get Ron - " Hermione starts, but I shake my head. I can't face Ron right now - not after I've probably ruined everything for both of us.

"Get some sleep," I tell her. "We'll talk in the morning." I can hardly bring myself to look at Hermione, either, but she's busy passing the tray to Winky and doesn't notice.

"All right," she says, turning. "Good night, then."

Ginny grins at me when she's gone. "I'll bet she's got Ron propped up in bed surrounded with pillows," she remarks. "Do you suppose she fed him his dinner, too?"

I reach for her hand without answering. I can tell she's trying to make me laugh, but I can't bring myself to respond.

I didn't think I had much appetite, but after the first bite I realize I'm starving. The two of us eat our way steadily through the tray without much conversation.

Ginny pushes her plate aside at last and smiles at me. "Sit closer," she says invitingly, patting the place beside her on the sofa.

I refill both our glasses and join her. I'm trying not to think about tomorrow, but it's impossible.

"You're not worried, are you?" Ginny asks, reading my mind.

"He's going to sack both of us," I say. "The only reason he didn't do it already is because he wants the rest of the details. I'll be out of the Aurors by this time tomorrow - if it even takes that long."

"If he sacks you, he's an idiot," Ginny says decidedly. "If you ask me, he's worried because you'd be a better Department Head than he would - and what's more, everyone knows it."

I stare at her. It's nice that she's got so much faith in me, but I can't help thinking it's a bit misplaced. "That's not true," I protest. "I've got a lot to learn before I know anywhere near as much as he does." _And I threw it in his face that he wasn't teaching me any of it - he won't forgive that in a hurry._

I didn't think I wanted to talk about it, but before I know it, I'm telling her the whole story. Ginny listens without interrupting.

"Well," she says, once I've stumbled to the miserable conclusion. "He obviously knew you were upset. Maybe he'll let it go if you apologize."

"You didn't see his face when I told him I didn't trust him," I say despondently. "I don't think an apology's what he wants. He wanted to get rid of me - and now he can."

"Come here," Ginny says, patting her lap. "You need to relax."

I stretch out, feeling a bit awkward. I'm not used to letting anyone pamper me.

Ginny strokes my hair; then starts massaging the back of my neck. "Close your eyes," she says firmly.

I close them obediently, offering a silent apology to Ron as I do. I still think he's a prat for letting Hermione baby him all the time, but now I know why he likes it.

"You know," Ginny says thoughtfully. "If he does sack you - not that I think he will, mind - you could still do the Auror thing in a way."

"How?" I ask blankly. "You mean study at home, like Hermione?"

"No, I mean set up on your own," Ginny explains. "You and Ron could be partners - like a Muggle detective agency."

I have a mental picture of myself sitting with my feet on a desk wearing a Sherlock Holmes hat. "Your dad needs to get rid of those old Muggle detective magazines of his," I say. "They seem to have left a big impression on you and your brother."

"Well, it wouldn't be quite like the Muggle ones," Ginny concedes. "Most of the things they hire detectives for seem to be things that wizards could work out on their own."

"Like cheating husbands?" I say.

"Exactly," Ginny says. "Any self-respecting witch would just jinx him. But there are other things - things people might not want the Ministry to know about."

It sounds a bit on the shady side, the way she puts it - but it gives me a spark of hope. "It's not as good as being an Auror, but it'd be better than being stuck in some clerical job," I say slowly.

"Of course it would," Ginny says, leaning down to kiss me. "You'd have people lining up for blocks."

I'd still rather be an Auror, but it's something. And it'd give Ron something, too. He's in an even worse position than I am - at least I've still got plenty of gold in the bank. "I'll think about it," I say.

"You probably won't have to," Ginny says comfortingly. "But it might be rather fun, someday - after you've retired from being Head of the Auror Department."

She keeps rubbing my neck in silence, and I let my thoughts drift. There probably are people who don't want to bring certain things to the Ministry's attention - but are they things I have any business knowing about? "What are you thinking?" I ask Ginny, trying to distract myself.

"I was thinking that this room's got possibilities," Ginny answers, surprising me. "Those curtains are absolutely hideous - I'd Vanish them, if I were you - but the carpet's not bad, and if you re-covered this sofa - "

I sit up and look around. She's right, the room's pretty awful - actually, the whole house is pretty awful - but it's not something I'd given much thought to. "Want to do the place over for me?" I offer. "I don't know much about decorating."

"Neither do I, but I know ugly curtains when I see them," Ginny says. She smiles at me. "Think you can go to sleep now?"

"No," I say, pulling her into my arms. "But let's go upstairs anyway."

**Draco**

I do my best to keep Lurleen from accompanying me into the Manor, but she's determined. "They'll be asleep," I protest, even though every light in the house is blazing. I know Mother's going to learn the truth about her former housemaid eventually, but I was hoping it wouldn't be tonight.

"I need to speak to them about your uncle," Lurleen says firmly. "I hope they aren't going to be too upset."

That seems fairly unlikely to me. "They'll manage," I say.

Mother shrieks and flings herself at me as soon as I step into the hall. "Draco, we've been so worried!" she sobs.

I pat her awkwardly and look at Father for help. But he's staring at Lurleen. "Why was the servant with you?" he demands.

Mother turns and stares at her, too. "Where on earth have you been?" she demands crossly. "Never mind - you're dismissed!"

"She's not a maid," I say. "She's an Auror."

"Don't be ridiculous, darling," Mother says. "Why on earth would - oh."

"Yes, indeed," Father says coldly. "Got it in one, haven't you, Narcissa? She's been spying on us." He glares at Lurleen. "I hope you told Shacklebolt there was no point in continuing, because I haven't done anything."

"_You_ haven't," Lurleen says calmly. "But your brother-in-law's been rather busy, hasn't he?"

Mother turns pale. "Lucius, tell her!" she implores. "We can't handle him on our own."

"I expect she already knows," Father says. "Don't you, Lurleen? If that _is_ your name."

"It is," Lurleen assures him. "And I know a good bit - but I expect there's more." She turns to Mother. "I'm sorry to inform you that Rodolphus Lestrange is dead," she says formally.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Mother says, looking relieved. "I mean - how terrible! How did it happen?"

"He drowned in the river just at the edge of the grounds," I say.

"Now you see why I would never let you play there as a child," Mother says instantly. "It's terribly dangerous. Lucius, you know I always said we should have extended the wall."

"Good thing we didn't, or we'd likely still be saddled with him," Father observes.

"Oh, Lucius," Mother says weakly, but I can tell she agrees.

"There are a few questions I'd like to ask you," Lurleen says. "I know it's late, but it's just as well to get it all over with tonight, isn't it?" She urges them in the direction of Father's study as she speaks.

Mother and Father are predictably appalled when they find out just how long Rodolphus has been in contact with me. "Darling, you should have told us!" Mother says reproachfully.

"Draco was trying to protect you, Mrs. Malfoy," Lurleen says.

Father throws me an astonished look. "So he was!" he remarks, sounding almost proud of me for once. "That - that took a great deal of courage, Draco."

"I think I have all I need for tonight," Lurleen says, getting to her feet. "Draco, you understand that you may be called to testify before the Wizengamut?"

"Now see here!" Father's on his feet, too. "Draco was under extreme duress. If he agrees to testify, he should be granted full immunity."

"Draco isn't being charged with anything, Mr. Malfoy," Lurleen says. "He'll be called as a witness - and we'll grant all of you the full protection of the Auror Office."

"It's fine," I tell her. Zabini's supposed to testify, too, but I have a feeling they won't be able to find him when they go looking.

Father turns to me after Lurleen's gone. "Well done, Draco," he says, a bit awkwardly. "And now I expect we'd all better get some sleep."

"Darling, I hope you'll sleep in nice and late tomorrow," Mother puts in anxiously. "Now that you haven't got to go to that ridiculous job at the Ministry anymore. I really think you ought to rest, after all you've been through. Why not do a bit of traveling? Or you might look up some of your old friends from Hogwarts - I'm sure they'd be pleased to hear from you."

Mother still doesn't get it, does she? I can't exactly go off to the Continent when I'm likely to be called before the Wizengamut at any moment. And my so-called "old friends" are probably going to be out for my blood after this. We'll probably have to go into hiding. But I don't need Father's warning look to tell me not to bring it up tonight. For now, it's enough to know that Rodolphus is never coming back.

**Harry**

All four of us sleep late the next day. It's after noon when we meet at the breakfast table. An owl's waiting patiently on the sideboard. He flies to Ginny as she enters and drops an envelope into her hand.

I watch her curiously as she scans the parchment and then shoves it into her pocket. "What was that about?" I ask.

"Nothing much," Ginny says evasively. "Ron, can I borrow Pig later?"

"Huh?" Ron says, noticing nothing. "Yeah, he'll be glad to have something to do."

I'll bet anything that letter was something to do with the Harpies. "Gwenog wants you to come back, doesn't she?" I demand, cornering Ginny after breakfast.

She looks slightly flustered. "Yes, but I told her I couldn't come till tomorrow," she says.

"Ginny," I start, but she shakes her head.

"I'm not leaving till after you've talked to Robards," she says stubbornly. "And you can't make me go, either!"

I give up. I'm glad she's here, to be honest, but I feel selfish keeping her. "Your match with the Tornadoes - " I try.

"Is going to be this Saturday, and I'm playing Chaser," Ginny says calmly. "And I have every intention of scoring at least one goal, so I hope you're planning to be there."

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," I assure her.

All too soon, it's time for our trip to the Ministry. "There's no need for you and Ginny to come," I say to Hermione, seeing her reach for her cloak.

"I have to talk to Wilton Sikes about coming back to work," Hermione answers. "And Ginny can wait for me in the Café. I don't expect I'll be long."

I look at Ron. He shrugs. "Fine," I say, feeling outnumbered. "Let's go."

I don't quite trust Ginny, so I walk her to the Café entrance first. "See you soon," I say, kissing her.

"Good luck," she says anxiously. "But you won't need it. I know it'll be fine."

I wish I thought so. "Well, it's been fun being an Auror," Ron whispers as we wait for Robards to answer our knock. "Better luck next time."

I don't have a chance to answer him. Robards' voice - a cold, forbidding voice - is telling us to come in.

"Sit down," he says, not looking up from something he's writing. I can't help wondering if it's some sort of formal notification of dismissal.

Ron and I exchange panicked looks and sit. "Well, Mr. Weasley - Mr. Potter," Robards says, looking up at last. "I have spent a long time thinking about your actions."

I wonder if he's slept at all? He doesn't look much like he has. "It took me a long time to reach the inescapable conclusion," Robards continues.

Here it comes.

"You were born to be Aurors," Robards finishes.

What? I can't have heard him right. I look sideways at Ron and see that his mouth is hanging open. "Er, what?" he says faintly.

"While I do not approve of your methods, I must admit that you've both shown courage and initiative over the past few months," Robards says. "However, should I agree to allow you to stay on, you will both need to agree to some ground rules. First and foremost, I am in charge and you will bring all information to my attention as soon as you receive it. My decisions are not to be questioned. Is that clearly understood?"

Stay on? He's letting us stay on? I manage to choke out an agreement. Ron - clearly incapable of speech - simply nods.

"In return," Robards says. "I shall do my best to merit that trust." His eyes meet mine at last.

We stare at each other in silence for a minute. Robards looks away first. "Mr. Weasley, you may recall that you were originally put on probation for refusing to disclose some information," he says to Ron.

"I remember," Ron says guardedly.

He's not going to drag _that_ up again, is he? Not after Dennis turned himself in…

"Under normal circumstances, your return to the Auror training program would be conditional on your agreement to divulge that information now," Robards says sternly. "Most fortunately for you, young Mr. Creevey has chosen to come forward. However, I must caution you that any future refusals of this nature on your part will be dealt with most severely." He glares.

"I understand," Ron says hastily. "If you don't mind, what's going to happen to Dennis?"

Robards sighs. "Mr. Creevey is underage," he reminds us.

"I know," Ron says. "But - "

Robards puts out a hand to stop him. "However, your Aunt has made it known that she is well-disposed to the idea of looking after him until he has reached the age of seventeen," he says. "With his parents' permission, of course. I have dispatched Persimmon to talk to them. She can be most persuasive."

_"Aunt Muriel?"_ Ron says in disbelief.

Robards almost smiles. "It seems that she's taken quite a fancy to him," he says.

"Poor Dennis," Ron says without thinking. "I mean - er - "

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," Robards says dryly. "Your meaning is very clear. And now, I have one final piece of business to discuss with you."

Ron looks wary. He's probably thinking the same thing I am - that Robards is going to ask about Talitha's device again. Well, he can ask all he wants - nobody's ever going to get their hands on it again.

Much to my surprise, though, he has something very different in mind.

"As you know, I am very fond of your wife," Robards says to Ron. "It distresses me to think that you have deprived her not only of a wedding, but also of a honeymoon. You are to take the rest of the week off to remedy that. Is that clear?"

Ron grins at him. "I think I've got it," he says.

"You may not be aware that Aurors customarily earn bonus pay for capturing wanted Death Eaters," Robards says, pushing an envelope in Ron's direction. "While Sebastian Flint was not on our list, he has certainly been a person of great interest to this office. Your actions resulted in his imprisonment."

Ron looks stunned. "I - well, thanks," he says at last. He looks at Robards. "Is it all right if I go and tell Hermione now?"

"Yes, go," Robards says, waving a hand at him. "Oh, and Mr. Weasley? You might find time to send a message to Perdita. She has been most eloquent in your defense - so eloquent, in fact, that I have forbidden her from entering my office."

Robards looks at me again after the door's closed behind Ron. "I am not an easy man to get along with, Mr. Potter," he says, looking at me challengingly.

I'm not about to argue with that one. I mutter something noncommittal and wait.

"However," Robards says. "I like to think that I am a fair man. I have not, perhaps, been fair to you."

Again - no argument from me.

"I think, Mr. Potter," Robards says uncomfortably. "That perhaps what we need is a fresh start. Do you agree?"

"On one condition," I say. "Do you think you could call me Harry? 'Mr. Potter' makes me feel like I'm about to get detention."

Robards almost smiles. "Very well, Harry," he says. "Then you must call me Gawain."

That's not going to be easy. But I'll try. "Fair enough, Gawain," I say, managing it.

"Now," Robards says briskly. "No doubt you're anxious to get to your next assignment. Mr. Simon Parkinson and Mr. Adrian Pucey were able to escape undetected from Azkaban last night. The Warden tells me one of his boats is missing. You and I, Harry, will track them down." He looks at me expectantly. "Any ideas?"

I think about it. "We might start at the Dark Horse," I suggest. "It's a good place to pick up information. I've got my Invisibility Cloak with me."

"Excellent," Robards says. "Off you go. Return here when you have something to report."

"I will," I say, getting up. I hesitate at the door. "Thank you," I add.

Robards waves me off, already turning back to his paperwork.

I make my way to the lift, already planning in my head. If I can't anything at the Dark Horse, I'll try to track down Pansy. She might know something - and if she thinks I'm someone else, she just might tell me what it is. Who were her friends in Slytherin? Daphne Something and that Tracy girl… all I have to do is get a piece of hair from one of them…

But there's one thing I have to do first - the most important thing of all. I get into the lift and press the button for the Café. Before I do anything else, I need to tell Ginny she was right.

**Hermione**

I wanted to wait for Ron outside the Auror Office, but he wouldn't let me. "Go and talk to Sikes," he said firmly, pressing the button for the lift. "I'll come and see you after he - well, after."

The House-Elf Office appears to be deserted, but Wilton Sikes calls out a surprisingly alert-sounding "come in" when I knock tentatively on his office door. "Why, Miss Granger!" he says, looking astonished to see me. "I didn't expect - but you must sit down!"

"Thanks," I say, accepting the chair. "I rather thought I owed you an explanation."

"Not at all," Sikes says, beaming at me. "It was all in the _Prophet_ this morning. Quite an experience, what?"

That's one word for it. "To think of Miranda being the ringleader," Sikes goes on, shaking his head. "I never dreamed - or actually, that was the problem. All I _did_ was dream, thanks to that sleeping charm she put on me!" He laughs heartily, and I force a weak smile in return.

"But you mustn't worry about me," Sikes says briskly. "Now that I'm back to myself, I can handle anything that comes up on my own." He looks around before adding, "Nothing much _does_ come up, does it? I can't think how three of you managed to keep busy."

"Three of us didn't," I remind him. "Tal - Miranda was busy plotting to overthrow the world, and Damaris - " I break off, not wanting to sound catty.

"Oh, I've managed to get rid of her," Sikes assures me. "I pushed her off onto Amos Diggory. Let her read fashion magazines in _his_ office!" He laughs again, and this time I join him. It serves Diggory right.

"So you don't have to bother about coming back to work," Sikes adds, and my laughter stops abruptly. "I expect you've got lots to do - just married and all that!"

"Yes," I manage, getting to my feet. "Well, I expect I'd better - er, thanks."

"By the way, your husband's aunt was interviewed by Rita Skeeter in yesterday's paper!" Sikes calls after me. "Strong-minded, isn't she?"

I mutter one of Ron's favorite words under my breath. I don't even want to know what Muriel told Rita about us. At least it was yesterday's edition. Maybe Ron won't see it. It's bad enough that I'm going to have to tell him that neither one of us has a job now.

_It's going to be all right,_ I tell myself sternly as the lift travels to the second level. _We're young and healthy, we can find other jobs…_

Ron's waiting for me as I step off the lift. "Hermione, it's all right!" he says exuberantly, picking me up and swinging me around. "Robards said he didn't like some of my methods, but that I showed real courage and - and something or other! And he's letting both me and Harry stay on!"

"Good," I say, smiling down at him. "Because you're going to have to support me - I just found out I'm unemployed."

"_You_ are going back to school," Ron answers. "You can go full-time as a day student, can't you? McGonagall always liked you - she'll say it's all right."

I look at him wonderingly. "I suppose I could," I say slowly. "If I went to school full-time, I know I could pass at least some of my NEWTs this spring."

"You'll pass all of 'em," Ron says confidently. "Oh, and I didn't tell you the best part. Robards says I ought to take you on a proper honeymoon, and he's given me the rest of the week off to do it with. So where do you want to go?"

I wrap both arms around his neck. "Anywhere but camping," I say. 

The End :)


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